Memory Pending
by emily4498
Summary: I ran into a pole and fell into Eragon's little sister. Literally. I am now Eragon's little sister, half-human, half-elf extraordinaire. I'm just gonna roll with it. OC-insert
1. Chapter 1

Written 100% for my own enjoyment and unedited.

 _ **Memory Pending**_

Normally when someone runs into a pillar, they bounce backwards, maybe fall down, rub their head or nose a bit, then move on. I was quite a lucky person. I won raffle prizes all the time, I had a good family that stayed at arm's length, went to an amazing school, lived in a decent-sized house, no student loans, a neat boss, exciting job, and all the makings of a quite perfect life. I guess I should have known all that good luck had to be balanced out by something rotten. Back to running into pillars. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and slammed face-first into one of those poles that hold up overhangs. I bounced backwards and landed flat on my bum.

"You alright, Ella?" a young man asked as memories that were very clearly not my own crammed their way into my skull.

It wasn't a metal pole I ran into; it was a thin tree. I didn't fall in the landscaping or on the concrete; I fell hard in a nest of thorns. Someone wrapped their hands around my forearms and pulled me out as I hissed angrily at the thorns.

I looked up at the person who had pulled me out. It was a young man dressed in worn, handmade clothes, a bow strapped across his back. The unwelcome memories shoved their way to the forefront. "I'm fine, Eragon."

"If you want to go back—"

It was like being two people at once, with input being processed in two ways. One, as if I had lived there all my life, and the other never spending more than a few minutes without the full comforts of the western world. A headache crashed over me and I pitched forward against the person in front of me. One set of memories were screaming that I would get sent back home if I didn't suck it up in that instant. The other set was terrified of the way the leaves cast unfamiliar shadows. I tipped forward into the young man's arms and he barely caught me before I collapsed, unable to cope.

(o)

I woke up leaning against Eragon's chest, feeling as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, I was his little sister in all but blood. I quickly reviewed my memories of the person's body I now inhabited. She, Ella, was a precocious eight-year-old. I was almost twenty-six. That would take some getting used to. Her personality was a younger version of me, which was good, me getting stuck into this girl wouldn't arouse too much suspicion. I found myself looking forward to being an eight-year-old again, for a little while at least. Ella loved exploring the woods and had a habit of disappearing the moment her chores were done. She adored Eragon and hung on to his every word, even though she had a habit of picking fights and over-analyzing what everyone said. While most of her excursions were into the woods, she would occasionally run to Carvahall and annoy Brom the storyteller until he taught her something or gave her a good history story. Afterwards, he would escort her home to an angry Garrow, annoyed Eragon, and amused Roran. Garrow would give her a royal tongue lashing before offering a bed to Brom for the night and leaving her and Roran to sleep in front of the hearth. Roran was punished because he often gave the girl permission to run to town, where she stuck out like a sore thumb. Garrow didn't like the attention she brought to herself, partially for her safety, partially because he didn't like attention to begin with.

Eragon had found her in the Spine three years before while hunting. She had claimed she didn't remember how she had been lost in the Spine, but she remembered her home, nestled alone in the mountains, being sacked and hiding in the cellar. When the noise faded, she climbed out to find her parents dead beside a horned monster with her mother's carving knife in his eye and her father's walking staff, which had a sharp point at the top, driven through his chest and protruding from the other side. She hadn't screamed, she just fled the house and ran in the direction her father had told her too if something bad ever happened. Four days later, she chanced upon a small bear, Eragon heard her deliriously shouting at the creature and had investigated, arriving just in time to snatch her out of the way of the bear's claws then drag her up the nearest tree long enough for him to string his bow and shoot the creature.

Garrow was quite happy when Eragon returned with a fat bear he could barely lift, but his mood soured when he noticed Eragon's new shadow. It didn't take long for Ella to endear herself to the practical man. She did much of the housework without being asked and was perfectly willing to do whatever additional tasks Garrow requested. He was a bit less pleased when she became comfortable enough to speak. Like Eragon, she would ask endless questions, but unlike him, she would challenge the answers.

Physically, she was surprisingly healthy, never falling ill, not even when all three of her new family sickened when a small animal died in their well and polluted the water a year after she arrived. She could run as fast as Eragon when she put her mind to it, and could aim Eragon's bow fairly well if he helped her pull it back. She was a wild and paranoid version of eight-year-old me.

While I felt a bit guilty at being stuck in this girl's life instead of her, I wouldn't mind being actually stuck in—my thoughts broke off as I realized exactly where I was. I hadn't read the books in years but I knew the story well enough. I had read it every day for years to get through the horrors of high school. The easy, if a bit immature, reading was the perfect thing to distract me from my awkward and ugly self. Okay, I wasn't really ugly, but I wasn't outstanding in any way. I was mediocre in the school's drama program, fairly good at the Drunken Fist style of fighting I learned to win a bet in college, and I made solid, if low, Bs in all my classes. College, I did just enough to pass, graduated with a major in Cantonese and minors in Latin, Arabic and Hindi to become an international flight attendant. Oh, I also could carry a basic conversation and communicate safety instructions in a handful of other major languages. Yeah, languages were the only thing I was good at, not that anyone but the people I worked for knew that. My parents didn't believe me when I told them I was a flight attendant, but they never pressed the matter and we didn't talk often enough for it to be a problem. I was a loner and I liked it.

Back to why my hands were shaking with horror. I was stuck in Alagaësia before Eragon found Saphira's egg. If I remembered correctly, this particular hunting trip was when he was supposed to find it. My whole body started to tremble. It was one thing to read about it, but quite another to realize that, at this moment, Arya was being attacked by the Shade, Durza. I would never call myself very sympathetic to the plight of others, but it was one thing when someone gets their car vandalized or their purse stolen, and quite another when you knew someone was dying on the other side of the continent and you could do absolutely nothing about it. I grasped the bow Garrow had made for Ella, resolved. If the real Ella ever returned, so be it, but I wasn't going to let this story play out as bad as it did in the series I used as a memory palace through high school. Galbatorix was going DOWN because Ella is in TOWN! Yeah, let's not say that again. Ever.

 _Ever_.

(o)

"I'm fine, Eragon, let's get moving or we won't be able to bring anything back." I whispered, hoping I hadn't already scared off all the game food on the mountain.

"You need to go back, you fainted, that's not normal!" Eragon answered quietly.

"I ran head-on into a tree. That's why. I was just dazed and I woke up a second later! Besides, there's no bruise or bleeding or even a red mark! I'm _fine_! Now let's go or go hungry."

Eragon looked skeptical but decided it wasn't worth the argument. "You're never coming hunting with me again."

I stuck out my tongue. "I'm your shadow, good luck getting rid of me."

"Uncle Garrow will agree."

"Bah."

We both fell silent and continued on the trail of the deer herd we were tracking. It felt weird to be at ease in the woods, before I hadn't taken more than three steps into them, I was pure city girl, but Ella's instincts took over and I let them, enjoying the trill of hunting with my new big brother.

At last we closed in on the herd. As quietly as we could, Eragon and I strung our bows and separated. I glanced over and saw Eragon watching me. He blinked once, slowly, and I took aim. Not at the injured doe he had told me to, but at a buck with a broken antler closest to me. It was only ten feet away, an unmissable shot. A moment before I guessed Saphira's egg would appear, I let my best arrow fly. It struck true, straight through the buck's heart. The buck's cry made the whole herd turn to look at him. There was a breath of silence then they leapt up as one. Eragon's arrow took down the doe then an explosive noise announced the appearance of Saphira's egg and the departure of the herd.

Ha! Food and a dragon! I was rocking this.

"What was that?" Eragon demanded.

"How should I know?" I asked. "It's the Spine. Let's go check it out." At that I dashed forward to stop a few feet away from the egg.

Eragon ran after me. When he caught sight of the egg, he was fascinated. Carefully, he nudged it with an arrow before picking it up. "We'll definitely eat well this winter."

"We could stop in town and ask Sloan to butcher the meat while we talk to Brom about how much it's worth!" I chirped. The old 'storyteller' was going to have a heart attack. I would have cackled if it wouldn't have blown everything. If I managed to get the right secrets revealed at first, a lot of trouble could be saved. Hopefully the misunderstandings and misinformation about Eragon's father could be sorted out sooner. Perhaps when Brom was actually _alive_.

Eragon agreed to the plan. Mostly. "What makes you thing Brom would know how much a stone is worth? He's just an old storyteller."

"Brom knows everything. And he's really old. Older than Uncle Garrow. He won't tell me how old though."

"Whatever," Eragon shrugged and tucked the stone into his pack. "The doe should be small enough for you to carry. I'll get the buck."

I agreed and we set off back towards the village.


	2. Chapter 2

Sloan scowled but agreed to butcher the deer for us when Eragon laid our only coin on the table. He snatched it up and told us to come back tomorrow morning and it would be done. Eragon nodded, unwilling to start an argument with the butcher. We trudged over to Brom's house and Eragon knocked on the door.

"I don't have the patience for your questions tonight," the man snapped.

"Liar," I snapped.

Brom jerked the door open. "It's late. What could you possibly want at this hour?"

Eragon opened his pack and pulled out Saphira's egg. Brom took one look at it and grabbed Eragon's arm, pulling him roughly inside the house before slamming the door the instant I dashed through.

"Are you completely devoid of any wits? Where's Arya? How did you get that egg? Don't stand there looking like a pair of idiots! Tell me what happened."

"We were hunting and we had just taken down two deer and then the giant explosive-like noise scared the deer away and we found that in the center of a smoking crater!" I explained as fast as my mouth would move.

Brom sank into a chair rubbing his temples. "Have you touched it at all, Ella?"

"No, why? And who's Arya?"

Eragon picked up my questions. "What did you mean by egg?"

"Shut up. Both of you. Congratulations, Eragon, you've just become the first new dragon rider in a century."

"Wait!" I said as Eragon snorted and was about to leave. "Hear him out. Please?"

He stopped.

"You've found a dragon's egg, one of the last three in existence."

"Prove it."

"Ono eddyr aí Shur'tugal, Eragon." Brom started to chant in the Ancient Language for an entire minute, his hand hovering over the egg.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's the Ancient Language, right? You told me about it. No one can tell a lie in it. You told me you only knew a few words!" I insisted.

Both ignored me.

"It means, you are a Dragon Rider, Eragon."

"Then where's my dragon?" He demanded.

"In your hands. He or she hasn't hatched yet."

"How do you know? You're just a storyteller."

Brom snorted. "I'm much more than that, boy. Go back to your farm and take the egg with you. When you come back and get your meat, come see me and tell me if you still don't believe me."

"How did you know—" Eragon began.

"I am much more than a storyteller, boy, and you would do well to remember it. Come back tomorrow and don't let _anyone_ , not even your uncle, see that egg."

Eragon stuffed the egg in his bag and stormed out. I was about to follow him when Brom grabbed my arm.

"Have Eragon come here alone, Ella. While he's gone, pack his bag and meet us at the edge of the Spine. Don't tell Roran or Garrow where you're going. We have only days before Galbatorix realizes something is amiss and I want to be out of here long before then."

"He won't come willingly."

"He will, trust me. Now go. If anything seems even the slightest bit off, come straight back here, understand?"

"Will something go wrong?"

"Eventually, yes, but hopefully not tonight."

"Bye-bye!"

"Goodbye, Ella."

(o)

The next morning, I woke as early as I possibly could, long before the sun rose, but Eragon was already gone along with the egg. As quietly as I could, I gathered everything Eragon took on his extended hunting trip and stuffed it in his discarded pack. Satisfied, I hefted it and determined it to be light enough for me to carry before packing the bare minimum for myself, aware that I would have a hard enough time keeping up without extra weight.

Unwilling to risk Garrow waking at the creaking stairs, I climbed out of Eragon's window and carefully lowered myself to the ground my wriggling my fingers into well-worn niches in the wood. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I dashed towards the Spine, no one aware of my departure. Eragon had what could only be a dragon perched on his shoulder. He seemed to be talking to it, expressions flashing across his face, but there was no verbal exchange. I watched him carefully as Brom approached me and took Eragon's pack out of my hands.

"Ella!" I jerked as I realized had been talking to me.

"Sorry! I'm listening now. It hatched."

"Eragon named her Saphira."

I nodded and fidgeted with the collar of my shirt. Brom put a hand on my shoulder as if he knew what I was thinking. He probably did, considering he had been trained by Oromis to keep tabs on the general surface emotions of everyone around him. Even though I wasn't really Ella, I still had all her feelings, memories, and thoughts, as if she was trapped deep inside of me. Frankly, I felt quite betrayed. Eragon was supposed to be doting on Ella, not smiling with peaceful pleasure as Saphira snapped up strips of meat from his hand, completely ignorant of her arrival.

No, it didn't matter how well Ella knew him, or how much she adored Eragon. I wasn't her. I was me. I was not Ella. My parents were optometrists, not a dead couple hiding from society in the Spine. I was twenty-five years old. In a week and a half, I would be twenty-six. I was a multi-lingual flight attendant, not a child who hero-worshipped her adopted older brother. I was playing a part; I wasn't really Ella. Her emotions were not mine.

I turned towards Brom, bouncing on my toes. "You know the Ancient Language, right?"

Brom sighed and nodded.

"So that means you can teach it to me, right?"

I knew he really wanted to roll his eyes. "I'll teach you and Eragon the Ancient Language. I have to at least teach Eragon and I know you'll just listen and learn as well."

"Do you know Dwarvish?"

"A bit."

"Can you teach me that too?"

Brom frowned. "Why are you so interested?"

"Since you know the Ancient Language, can you do magic?"

"A bit."

"Can people fight with magic?"

"You're asking for information neither you nor Eragon are ready for yet. I am thrilled with your desire to learn, but—"

"But I need to be patient," I grumbled. Both Ella and myself had been routinely scolded for lack of patience.

Brom chuckled. "Patience is good, but I find myself to generally have little of it. I wouldn't deign to scold you or Eragon about it. I was going to say that you need to trust me. At the same time, I need you to understand that I need to focus my attention on Eragon, not—"

"An orphan girl with no history and who probably won't survive for very long."

When Brom didn't protest, I knew I was right, even though the prospect was distasteful. Eragon approached with Saphira nestled in his arms, asleep.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"We need to start moving. Ella brought your pack, so let's be off."

"What about Roran and Uncle Garrow? Shouldn't we tell them we're leaving?"

"That will only put them at risk. They'll come to town looking for you, but no one will know we're gone. They'll find that you left meat at the Sloan's and assume the both of you vanished on your way to pick it up. A few search parties might be sent out, but it'll seem like you up and left without a care."

"That's cruel!" Eragon protested.

"Crueler than showing Galbatorix that they can be used against you?"

"We're going to set Ella up as the only person closest to you that you care about and have Galbatorix and possibly the Ra'zac waste their time and energy targeting her instead."

"What?" Eragon responded, aghast.

"Would you rather that Roran and Uncle Garrow be targeted where you can't defend them or me, whom you could protect?" I responded. "Not that I'll need protecting for very long."

Eragon was not happy about the reasoning, but Saphira stirred, distracting him for long enough to change the topic.

"Galbatroix is a magician, does that mean Eragon has to learn magic too? Can anyone learn magic? How do magicians fight?"

"Ella—" Brom sighed. "Let's start moving and I'll tell you about the rudiments of magic."

I hiked my pack up to a comfortable point across my shoulders and gestured for Brom to lead the way. Without jostling Saphira, Eragon pulled on his own pack and set off after Brom.

"Are both of you listening and paying attention?"

"I am!" I chirped.

"Mhm," Eragon responded.

Brom snorted. "If you can't pay attention while holding that dragon, Ella will carry her, understand?"

Eragon straightened.

"Now I'm only going to explain this once." Brom launched into an explanation of magic with a rapt audience. For the rest of the day, he lectured as we marched along the game trails of the Spine.

As the sun began to set, Brom stopped and ordered me to gather firewood and Eragon to start foraging to make a meal while he sat down to whittle at a pair of sticks. I knew what he was doing and hid a grin as I gathered wood. As soon as Brom finished his meal, he tossed one of the sticks at Eragon. The new Rider caught it, curious. Saphira was perched in a tree a few feet away. I would swear she was smirking at Eragon.

"What's this?"

"You're going to learn the sword." At that, Eragon's beating began. I thought it would be funny, but it wasn't. Eragon was so clearly outmatched against the old man that it was frightening.

When Eragon collapsed, Brom turned to me.

"There's no way you'll ever be successful with the sword. You're too small and have no reach." Brom studied me until I began to shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

"Well?"

"The staff would be your best bet. It extends your reach and you can take it nearly anywhere, no one thinks a staff is dangerous. I don't have time to make you one tonight, but maybe tomorrow. Tonight, let's see how well you do with your hands and feet."

I didn't have to force a slightly fearful expression on my face. Ella had never fought anyone physically since she met Eragon, nor had she ever talked about her life before. I knew a style of hand-to-hand combat, and translating it into a child Ella's size wouldn't be too difficult, I just had to find her center of gravity.

"Are you ready?"

I frowned, wondering if there was a quick way get used to my new balance before I looked like a fool. "Hold on," I said and dashed for the nearest tree, leaping up into the branches and, using all of Ella's skill, scurried to the top as fast as I could before dredging up the year of competition gymnastics I was forced into when I was Ella's age and swinging down using my feet as little as possible. I was glad Ella's hands were callused enough from climbing trees all over the place that the bark didn't hurt my hands. By the time I made it to the bottom, I had a good idea of Ella's balance. "Now I'm ready."

Brom started with an expected punch to my face, followed by a sweep at my legs. I bent backwards like a leaf and kicked my feet forward to fall on my back. Brom frowned. He was smart enough to know I was planning something and instead of backing off, he stepped forward to attack before I could get up. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what I was waiting for. Ella didn't have my flexibility, but she had more strength, better balance, and faster reflexes than I did in my world. I made it work, swinging my legs to bring my body into a handstand and then to try and wrap my legs around Brom's neck. He had never seen my style before, but he had ten times my experience in fighting, probably more, and that saved him from strangulation. In order to do so, he had to throw himself to the ground and roll away from me. He couldn't fight on the ground without grappling, that much was obvious, but there was no way I was going to try and grapple with him; the style wasn't suited for it and he weighed at least three times as much as me, most of it muscle and bone density.

I waited for him to stand and dust himself off, before he continued to attack for what seemed like forever. I didn't do as bad as Eragon, Brom only landed a handful of hits, most of which I allowed through to try and counterattack, but I landed nothing. It wasn't bad for being out of practice, but I knew if Brom decided to up his game, I'd be screwed. I could barely keep up as he pushed me and the style to its limits. Finally, he backed off. "Let that be a lesson to you, Eragon. _Never_ judge by appearances. Ella, where did you learn that?"

"My first family. Mama said I couldn't go out alone unless I could defend myself. Uncle Garrow said so too."

"Garrow knew you could fight?"

I shook my head. "Eragon taught me to shoot."

"And you haven't used your odd style in three years?"

"Four," I responded honestly.

"Am I right to assume that climbing trees has something to do with it?"

"No, it just looks cool."

"Do you know what the Rimgar is?"

I frowned, trying to place where I knew the word from. When nothing came up, I shook my head. "It sounds familiar, but I can't place it," I answered honestly.

Brom took off his coat and shirt, standing in just his undershirt and flowed through a painful-looking, if a bit pretty dance-like movement. "Does this look familiar?"

"A bit," I answered as I remembered why the word was familiar. He stopped. It looked like a cross between yoga and a menagerie of athletic warmups mashed together to make something pretty. Brom sat down, frowning as he returned to studying me.

"Can you read?"

"A little bit. I know my numbers! Uncle Garrow taught me."

"Right." Brom fell silent and sat down in front of the fire, staring into the flames.

I glanced at Eragon, confused.

"Did your parents teach you any languages?"

It was my turn to frown. After a minute, I realized Brom's endgame. "A few?"

"Which ones?"

"Latin, Arabic, Hindi, and Cantonese. I know a few others too, but not very well."

"I've never heard of those languages. Are they tribal?"

"No."

"Are they written?"

"Yes."

"What alphabet do they use?"

"I don't know."

"Can you write in them?"

"Yes."

Brom reached into his back and pulled out a blank scroll and a pencil. "Write something in each language and then read it to me."

I wrote 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' in each language before reading them aloud and translating them so Brom could understand.

"Do you like learning new languages?"

"I love it!"

Brom started glancing between me and Eragon. I had a bad feeling. Finally, he swore and shot to his feet to pace, muttering to himself in the Ancient Language.

I sat down next to Eragon and leaned against his side, exhausted.

Finally, Brom laid out his bedroll. "Go to sleep you two, we have quite the journey to begin tomorrow."

For some reason, that statement made me a bit apprehensive. I laid out my own bedroll a few inches away from Eragon. Saphira flew down and sniffed at my hair. I couldn't help it. I giggled and sat up before she could start attacking my hair like a cat would. Unfortunately, I didn't figure on the fact she had wings. Saphira flapped once and landed on my head, sniffing at my hair. Fortunately, her claws weren't dangerous enough to penetrate Ella's thick, black curls. After a moment, Saphira bounded down and growling good-naturedly in front of me. Somehow, I just knew she wanted to play. Probably a bit violently.

"Hold on," I told her and rushed over to Eragon's pack and pulled out his gloves. The moment I pulled them on and sat back down, Saphira launched herself towards me. I yelped and jerked out of the way as she nearly bowled Eragon over with the unexpected dragon landing on his back. "Na-na you missed me!" I taunted as I rolled up to my knees. She pounced again and landed on my outstretched hand. I redirected her momentum to one side and she clawed the dirt to keep from tumbling. "You ain't gonna catch me if you can't hold on!" Saphira leapt again and latched onto the glove, riled up. I caught her with my other hand and tossed her into the air. She flapped once before diving at me. I tossed a handful of leaves up at her and rolled out of the way as she backpedaled, trying to see through the swirling leaves. I hadn't rolled far enough away, because Saphira launched herself out of the whirlwind of leaves and landed on my chest. I couldn't help but laugh loudly. Before she could gain her balance, I tossed her off and stood up, only to have Brom yank me backwards by the collar and Eragon catch Saphira as she launched herself in my direction again.

"I'm tired, Brom's tired, and we can't sleep with the two of you squabbling like kittens all over the camp."

"We were just playing!" I insisted. I guessed Saphira made a similar protest because Eragon laughed.

"Ella needs to sleep, unless you want to carry her tomorrow," he told Saphira. The dragon settled down and Brom placed me on my feet at the end on my bedroll before laying down on his own.

"I have no qualms about knocking you both unconscious," Brom inserted his two cents.

I sat down and stuck my tongue out at Saphira. "She started it."

"I am perfectly aware of who started it. I am also aware of who encouraged it and who let it happen."

"Burn."

Saphira twined around Eragon's neck, unrepentant, but settled down anyways. Saphira flicked me with her tail. I decided to actually act my age and ignored her.

"Slytha," Brom snapped. Saphira stilled. Damn, he was pissed off.


	3. Chapter 3

Instead of wandering around in the Spine, Brom turned and took us straight towards what I guessed to be Du Weldenvarden, lecturing the whole time and ignoring any questions of where we were going.

The second night, Brom put Eragon through his paces then made me a staff out of an oak branch. When I stood next to it, the top barely touched my earlobe. It was heavy as well. Brom used his own staff to show me how to spin it in a defensive circle.

"If you practice enough, you'll be able to spin it fast enough to knock away arrows from all sides and strong enough to knock away even the strongest swordsman's attack," Brom told me. At my current speed, I wouldn't be able to stop a sloth, but I didn't have a choice but to practice it until Brom told me to stop. When I lost control of the staff and it struck my knee, I realized that the centrifugal—or centripetal, I could never remember which—force of the spinning staff multiplied the power I put behind each swing. My arms burned from lifting the staff, but it was one of those good burns that let you know you're making progress, however slow. After that, as if he was trying to kill me, Brom insisted that I fight him and practice the Drunken Fist.

"No," I answered firmly. "I can barely lift my arms, there's no way I can do the forms right."

Brom started to attack and I had no choice but to do my best to defend against him. Luckily, the forms required a relaxed body and weren't too painful unless I had to drop to the ground to dodge and counterattack.

Thankfully, Brom only made me spar for a few minutes before telling me to go to sleep. I flopped onto my bedroll and started to stretch out the soreness.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"If I stretch, it won't hurt as bad tomorrow," I responded.

Brom shrugged and laid down on his own mat. As soon as I determined myself stretched out enough to be able to move in the morning, and singing praises to my college anatomy professor for making me memorize the muscles, all of them, I fell backwards and was asleep the second my head hit the pack I was using as a pillow. The cycle of listening to Brom's lectures while leaning on my new staff as we walked, eating, then training with the staff as Brom beat Eragon black and blue, taking my own turn at a beating, though not as bad, before stretching and dropping off to sleep continued for weeks as we travelled out of the Spine, along the Anora river, past Utgard and headed into Du Weldenvarden.

By that time, Saphira had grown big enough to fly with me on her back, but I repeatedly declined her offer for two reasons I kept to myself. First, she was Eragon's dragon, and I wasn't going to cheat him out of being the first person to ride a dragon, besides Galbatorix, since the fall of the Riders. Second, I was scared of heights. Okay, that sounds like a contradiction, considering I was a flight attendant, but I knew how a plane worked. I knew _a ton_ about planes, probably more than I needed, and I knew that a plane wasn't going to crash, and even if it did, I would be fine, maybe a few bumps and bruises. I could even fly it myself if I needed to. The same thing was true for skyscrapers: they were built to be that tall and stay upright. I was careful enough when climbing trees so I never relied on a dead branch for anything more than a bit of help balancing and I never climbed to a point the tree could not support me. I had no knowledge of dragons or how they flew, and I was certainly not going to trust an inexperienced one to take me hurtling through the air at ridiculous heights. Especially when Saphira's wings didn't seem large enough to support her, much less me as well.

Conclusion: I was staying on the ground, even when Brom and Eragon insisted I fly with Saphira at least once, just in case they were attacked. Saphira even threatened to kidnap me, but I darted away from her and into a hollow tree I had found when collecting firewood. I slept there to show I was serious. The next day, Saphira tried again saying she wanted to see how much weigh she could handle and try some of the maneuvers Brom had told her about while he was lecturing us. That earned her an even more emphatic no and the suggestion that we pile the supplies onto her back and she could try with those first.

They tried everything that day to get me to fly, but I refused to be swayed by guilt, pride, promises, bribes, and a multitude of other incentives. Finally, Eragon accused me of being a scaredy-cat and I swung my staff across his backside. The number of meals and amount of targeted exercise Brom made us do had made me much stronger than many boys a few years my elder, which made Eragon lucky I didn't swing with my entire strength, otherwise, he probably wouldn't have been able to sit for the next week instead of just for that night. They stopped pestering me after that episode. Especially Saphira.

(o)

We travelled into Du Weldenvarden for a day and a half before Brom stopped and started to chant in the Ancient Language. We made camp and Brom unrolled a scroll to write a lengthy message in the Ancient Language. After a few hours, Brom signed it with a flourish, cut off the unused part of the scroll, and started on a second, much shorter message. When he signed it, he tied them shut with two different strips of cloth. A white one around the long message, and a brown one around the shorter message. Brom thought for a moment before writing a third message as long as the first one and tied it closed with a string of leather. He took a second leather cord and strung his ring through it before tying it around my neck and started on his instructions.

"I'm sending you to the elves' capital, Ellesméra. There will be an elvish horse here soon to take you there. If you meet another elf, show them the ring and give them the letter tied with the brown string. They will escort you to their queen, Islanzadí. Give her my ring and the scroll tied with the white. She will ask you questions, answer them truthfully and to the best of your ability. When she asks you if there was anything else I asked you to do, tell her that I asked that you deliver the scroll tied with the leather strip to The Cripple Who Is Whole, personally." Brom quickly coached me on how to greet the elves and what not to do under any circumstances. He made me memorize the greetings and write down what he wanted me to say to the queen in the Ancient Language. My pronunciation was on point by the time one of the elvish horses galloped up to Brom. He spoke to it in the Ancient Language for a minute before leading it to me. "This is Folkvír. He responds to commands in the Ancient Language. He knows where to take you, so once you mount, just tell him 'ganga' and he will go. Be kind and respectful to him. If you need to stop to eat or sleep, tell him 'blöthr.' You can sleep on his back; he won't let you fall, but I would suggest you stop anyways. A word of warning: riding through the night is extremely uncomfortable."

Up until that point Eragon had remained silent, distracted by Saphira, but when Brom moved to lift me onto the horse, he protested. "You can't just send her into the forest alone!"

"She'll only be alone for one night, then she'll be deep enough into Du Weldenvarden for the elves to find her and escort her to Ellesméra."

"She's eight!"

"I'm nine now!" I argued, stroking Folkvír's cheek. He really was a beautiful horse. The Ella part of me wasn't thrilled, but I could understand Brom's reasoning. Brom would train Eragon as much as he could, away from the influence of everyone, and I would be able to learn more, faster than Eragon because of my age and continue his instruction independent of the influence of the elves, dwarves, and the Varden in case something happened to Brom. While I was in Ellesméra, l could also learn to fight with the staff, maybe pick up another weapon, to defend my mind, possibly learn magic, and of course, remain safe. Brom knew I would be important, even if he couldn't fathom how or why.

I should have protested, insisting on remaining with Eragon and Brom, but I was selfish and I wanted to learn. Besides, I would have done more harm than good if Brom had been forced to teach me and Eragon at the same time. I only half-listened as Brom explained his reasoning to Eragon, and eventually convinced him it was the proper course of action.

"I say she stays with us," Eragon made one final protest. Brom was already frustrated with Eragon's stubbornness. I hoped that the statement would be enough to make him pull the father card.

Brom clenched his teeth as if he was trying to spit out the words but was too angry to make his mouth work right.

"I'm her brother—"

"And I'm your father, boy—" Brom broke off as Eragon's eyes widened and he realized exactly what he said. "She's going, end of discussion." With that, Brom strapped my staff across my back alongside my bow and underneath my pack, in which he placed a day's worth of food inside before laying my bedroll across Folkvír's back and lifting me onto the horse's back. I took that moment to appreciate the fact Ella was partial to pants and the fact that Garrow had no problem dressing her in Eragon and Roran's hand-me-downs rather than insisting that she wear a dress like a 'proper' girl-child. Fortunately, the fact wouldn't stand out in Ellesméra, considering there wasn't the stigma about the proper role of the female among the elves.

I was sad at missing Eragon's reaction, but not that the truth would come out and save Eragon quite a bit of distress later on. I didn't stress over it, I just let Folkvír take me to Ellesméra.

Brom wasn't completely accurate when He said I'd be alone for one night. I was about to tell Folkvír to stop when three elves appeared with their bows drawn. Two appeared to be twins with smooth and glistening auburn hair and nearly identical thin features while the third seemed to be covered from head-to-toe in bright green scales. "Blöthr, älfa-dautr."

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," I said and pressed two fingers to my lips, bowing awkwardly astride Folkvír.

"Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr," the elves replied automatically. The lead elf said something more in the Ancient Language. I caught a few words, but not enough to have any idea what he was saying.

I recited the phrases of the Ancient Language Brom had coached me in and handed over the proper scroll while showing them the ring. "May I dismount? I am unaccustomed to horses and quite sore."

The elves laughed at my comment and put away their bows, one of the twins stepped forward catch me as I misjudged the distance and fell with an alarmed cry. She asked me something in the Ancient Language, but I shook my head. "I don't understand enough of your language to discern your meaning, and I've only memorized a handful of phrases Brom taught me. Can we stick to this language?" The three elves nodded. The woman who caught me took my hands and danced in a circle around me.

"Of course, we were just excited that you knew as much as you recited of our language."

I smiled. "Do you have someplace I can sleep? I've been walking or riding all day."

"Tell us, do you know how to use that staff of yours?" The leader asked, interested.

"A bit," I responded. "Not very well, Brom was teaching me a little, mostly defensive things."

"I'm curious to see what the humans think of the staff? Do they realize its power?"

"No, at least, I didn't until I almost broke my own leg." The elves seemed to find everything I said hilarious. Normally I like being a riot, even though it rarely happened for real, but this was getting annoying.

"Well, tomorrow replacements arrive and we can take you to the queen," the leader said. "You'll have plenty of time to show us what you know? Can you handle that bow?"

"Can you teach me the Ancient Language?" I responded rhetorically. Everyone laughed and the other auburn-haired elf led me towards their outpost.

"We do appreciate children," One of the elves commented, "Especially those who are of our blood, however distant."

"I don't understand."

"Brom didn't tell you what was in his letter?"

I shook my head.

"Well, Ella, it seems that Brom was able to determine that you are part elf. He rightly decided that you should be raised in Ellesméra." The elf picked me up and swung me in a wide circle, laughing. "But now, it's your bedtime, or our dear queen will have us slaving around the city rather than doing something interesting."

"I'm not tired," I made the obligatory protest. The elves just laughed. The Ella part of me just didn't want to go to sleep. "I have to practice my staff like Brom said!"

The elves continued to laugh and one of them swung me up on their back while another released Folkvír and they dashed off. It felt like seconds before they raced straight towards a tree. I screamed as it seemed they would run into it, closed my eyes, and tucked my face into the neck of the elf carrying me. I warily opened my eyes when they stopped inside what seemed to be an elvish garrison. They laughed at my amazed expression.

"Ellesméra is more impressive," they assured me.

"Um, you seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."

"I'm Raina," the auburn-haired elf who had helped me off Folkvír answered.

"I'm Faelwen," The other auburn-haired elf responded. "And our captain prefers to be called Green-scales."

I nodded. "I think I'll remember that."

"Don't worry, it will take a bit for you to tell them apart," Green-scales murmured. "Now, to bed with you!"

"But my staff practice!" I reached back to grab the shaft of wood, but my pack, bow, and staff were in Green-scales' hands.

"You'll have all of tomorrow morning to practice," they assured me. Raina guided me into a dark room and placed my hands on a low bed, while Green-scales pushed my things underneath the bed.

The elves left, singing a quiet song in the Ancient Language, and I quickly dropped off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke early the next morning and wandered towards the sound of voices, my staff in hand.

"You've only slept for a few hours!" Faelwen exclaimed from behind me.

I yelped and spun around, my staff swinging with me. Faelwen jumped neatly over my staff before it could take out his ankle. I let the end of my staff hit the ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try and hit you—"

"It's fine, it's fine," Faelwen placated, "We just didn't expect you to get up until breakfast time."

"It is breakfast time."

Faelwen laughed. "I'll remember you like getting up early, but it's barely time to start making breakfast."

"Can I help?"

Again with the laughing.

"What's so funny about everything I say?"

This only made him laugh harder. "Green-scales is making breakfast. He normally practices with his staff over there. Do that while the rest of us do our jobs."

"But I wanna help too!"

"You can, but not this morning, Green-scales wants to see how good you are."

"I'm not any good." I hung my head.

"Chin up, you're just a kid who's had a stick for a month, maybe two, he's not expecting a master."

"It's a staff, not a stick." I poked his stomach, irritated

"Mm, sure."

I stomped off to the clearing Faelwen had pointed at and started to swing the staff in the defensive pattern Brom showed me. I was engrossed in the motions, that I barely registered someone calling my name, choosing to ignore it. I vaguely noticed Green-scales standing in front of me, but I focused on swinging the staff even faster. When I was breathing hard and my arms burned, I let the staff slow down enough so I could catch it and ground one end.

"Not bad, Ella. The staff is a bit heavy for you, so that makes it much slower, but makes up for it in power. Oak is certainly your thing."

"Thank you."

"Can you do anything other than a defensive sphere?"

"It makes a good walking stick."

The elves started laughing again.

"It's past time for breakfast, let's eat and then—"

"Can you think about nothing but your staff?" Raina asked as she carried out two trays laden with food.

"It's a beautiful weapon, it rarely kills and a good staff never fails good hands."

"A good blade—"

"Is hard to come by and even more difficult to make."

"May we start eating before you start debating the point?" Faelwen asked.

Raina placed the trays on the ground and we all sat down in a circle, weapons lying behind us.

The lack of meat didn't bother me at all. I wasn't partial to it, in fact, in my original life, I was close to a vegetarian diet, mostly because meat was too expensive and didn't stay fresh while I was working as a flight attendant. After I finished, the elves started to ply me with questions. Most were whether I knew if my mother or father was an elf, who they were, what I knew of their culture, how I met Brom and other queries of the sort. I answered them as well as I could. When I started to grow bored with the questions, Green-scales sent the other two off to patrol the area and said he wanted to see if I had any natural inclination towards the staff, or it was just a weapon of necessity.

"Um, Brom told me to avoid a fight I couldn't win, and there's no way I could win this," I told Green-scales as we faced off.

He frowned for a moment. "Wait here." In five seconds, I counted, he returned with another staff. "Switch yours with this one," he told me, holding it out.

I handed Green-scales my staff and took the one he offered. It was slightly longer, but a quarter of the weight.

"Swing it around."

I obeyed. After the first few rotations of the staff, I found that I could swing it nearly five times as fast as the heavy oak staff. "Wow," I breathed as the staff whipped around me. It let out a faint buzz through the air whenever the rotation brought it close to my ear.

"Good, now, you only want to swing your staff like that if you have multiple strikes or projectile weapons headed your way. If you want to attack, spread your hands, like this," Green-scales held out the staff horizontally at shoulder height, his hands dividing the staff into thirds.

I mimicked him.

He put the staff down and adjusted my awkward grip and used his foot to nudge my feet into the proper placement. "Better. Now," He resumed holding up the staff. "Your hands are going to shift all over the staff, and your feet are going to move, so don't stay locked where you are. The simplest of attack patterns are like rowing a boat." He flowed though the motions and I shuffled out of his way. I knew what he was talking about, even if Ella didn't and I had no desire to play dumb. "You're aiming for both collarbones and both knees."

I clumsily walked through the motions.

"Good, now try it on me, but go slow until you figure it out."

I frowned deeply as I walked through the motions. Green-scales stopped me every few seconds to correct something. When he was finally satisfied with it, he stepped in front of me.

"Keep it slow, but hit as hard as you can." The sharp clack of the staffs echoed around the clearing. It seemed like hours before Green-scales told me to speed up. A few seconds later, he said so again. The tempo started to increase until I slipped on a loose stone and crashed to one knee.

I stood back up, but yelped when my knee wouldn't hold my weight, toppling onto my butt. It wasn't until I stayed still that I realized just how fast we had been moving. I pulled up my pant leg to see what was wrong.

"That was pretty good, Ella, just watch your feet as well as your opponent." Green-scales knelt beside me and examined the gash on the side of my knee. "How'd that happen?" He asked.

"I fell."

"Not that hard. The rocks aren't sharp enough."

"I've had some pretty rotten luck lately."

Green-scales murmured a few words in the Ancient Language and the gash closed most of the way.

"That itches," I commented as he wrapped a strip of bandage around my knee.

"You'll survive."

"It _itches_."

Green-scales looked at me like I was insane. "Get up and I'll show you how to defend."

I nodded and grabbed his wrist, pulling myself to my feet. I gingerly put weight on my leg and smile when there was only a small twinge of pain. A quick shake of my foot, and my pant leg fell back down to its proper position. "I'm ready."

"Good, when you're blocking a strike, you want to spread your hands wider than when you're attacking so you have more control over which direction in which you deflect their strike." He quickly showed me the motions to deflect basic strikes. I walked through the forms, picking them up easier now that I was more familiar with the way the staff moved. All of a sudden, Green-scales stood in front of me attacking with the same patterns I used against him. This time, he controlled the speed, gradually moving faster, but never too fast, as long as I didn't make a mistake. "Stop!" Green-scales finally called out.

I flopped onto my back, exhausted. "Is it lunchtime yet?"

"Not for another hour."

I groaned. "I'm tired and starving."

This only made the elf laugh and he pulled me up and over his shoulder.

"Hey!" I squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm gonna tell Eragon you're messing with me!"

"Sure," Green-scales snorted. "I'll be scared of this Eragon."

"You should be," I responded petulantly. "He's a Rider."

"Okay, whatever."

"Eragon ilumëo Shur'tugal." I responded in the Ancient Language.

Green-scales laughed. "Good try, Skinny."

"Hey! Don't call me names!"

The other elves joined into his laughter as he set me on my feet inside the garrison to introduce me to the three elves who arrived.

We exchanged the proper greetings and it only seemed like a minute before Raina was hoisting me onto her back and running towards Ellesméra.

The days passed in a blur before I was standing before Islanzadí. Stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar words, I exchanged the greeting with her and recited the words Brom gave me, handing over the proper scroll.

Unlike what I remembered of Eragon's arrival in Ellesméra, only a handful of individuals were in attendance, of those, three were the elves who escorted me, Bladgen, and a white-robed elf with silver hair I knew should be familiar, but I couldn't place him.

Islanzadí had me recount everything Ella could remember of her life before I me Eragon, and everything after the time Eragon and I found Saphira's egg. I answered as much as I could and showed her the scroll I was to deliver to The Cripple Who Is Whole. She smiled and motioned towards the white-robed elf.

He stepped forward and held out his hand for the scroll. "You're The Cripple Who Is Whole?" I asked warily.

"I am, älfa-dautr."

I handed over the scroll and bounced on my toes. "Why do they call you that?" I asked, innocently. My frustration with knowing he was somehow important ate at the back of my head, but I couldn't figure it out.

"What makes you ask that?" He asked politely.

I wrinkled my nose. "If you don't wanna answer the question, just say so. To answer yours, people don't just get names for no reason. I was curious, there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

The elf gave me a strained smile. "There's nothing wrong with curiosity." He turned his attention to Brom's letter, before closing his eyes.

I shifted awkwardly. "Did he go to sleep or something?"

"No, älfa-dautr. Just be patient."

"He looks like Eragon when—" I broke off when I realized who The Cripple Who Is Whole was. "He's a Dragon Rider too!" I breathed.

Islanzadí shot to her feet as I sat down where I stood to process the new development. My staff clacked on the ground and rolled away. I knew The Cripple Who Is Whole played a reasonably large role in the story, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure it out. The queen and the Rider exchanged a glance before Oromis, yes that was his name, crouched down in front of me.

"My proper name is Oromis, I can see you've already figured out my status as a Dragon Rider, similar to your adopted brother Eragon."

I frowned. "Brom said the last two dragon eggs were controlled by Galbatorix."

"They are."

I continued to frown trying to figure it out. "I don't get it," I said bluntly when I reviewed the facts for the third time.

Oromis took my hand and led me towards the door. "Shur'tugal!" Islanzadí snapped.

He turned back towards the queen and placed his hands on my shoulders. I squirmed. "I understand," Oromis stated.

With his hand in mine, Oromis led me away. "Where are you taking me?"

"To meet someone."

"Who?"

"You'll see."

"Who?"

Oromis smiled. "You'll see."

I sent him an unimpressed look, but skipped beside him to keep up with his long, fast stride. At first I didn't see them, but after a few minutes of taking everything in, I started to notice the elves parting on the path in front of us and watching us go by, half-obscured by the trees.

I never liked being the center of attention if I didn't have anything important to contribute. I pressed against Oromis's side and tugged on his sleeve. He bent down. "What is it?"

"They're all looking at me!" I said into his ear, uncomfortable.

"They're just curious, Ella," He responded with a smile.

"But—"

Oromis deftly redirected my attention towards the trees in which the buildings were hidden, making it a game for me to spot the structures and identify their purpose.

Eventually, I fell quiet, just watching the trees in fascination as we passed.

Multiple times, I insisted on stopping to take a closer look at an unfamiliar plant or animal. Oromis would supply the name and the purpose then I would reluctantly allow him to pull me back onto the path, my staff dangling from my fingers and rolling my shoulders to shift my pack, bow, and quiver into a more comfortable position across my shoulders. Not once did I release Oromis's hand. The Ella part of me instinctively found something trustworthy, safe, and grandfatherly about him.

"We're almost there," Oromis assured me as I started to lag behind.

"I could have walked to Carvahall and back twice in this time! Why does this person live so far away from everyone?"

"The distance is nothing to him."

"But—" I started to protest, but the trees ended suddenly to reveal a giant crag and I fell silent, mesmerized. Something sparkled on its peak. "It's pretty."

"We will meet him up at the top."

There was a gentle slope leading up to the top, surrounded by cliffs. "Can I climb the cliff?"

Oromis looked apprehensive.

"I promise I won't fall."

"I guess—"

Before he could add any stipulations, I raced to the bottom of the cliff, strapping my staff on alongside my bow. Climbing rocks was much different than climbing trees. The rocks had a tendency to wriggle if they held too much weight for too long, and there were less places for me to dig my fingernails into for traction, and fewer places for me to rest. Even so, the climb was short in comparison to many of the climbs available in the Spine.

I noticed Oromis watching me carefully as he walked up the path to wait for me at the top. When I reached the edge under Oromis's feet, he reached down and grabbed my forearms, hauling me up over the edge. "Satisfied?" He asked.

I beamed. "Can I do it again?"

"Maybe another time. Now, you have someone to meet."

"Okay?"

Oromis guided me towards the mound of gold. I reached up in amazement to touch the sun-warmed surface. Taking my hand, he guided me around one side of the mound.

Saphira, who was barely the size of a horse, and I had known since a few hours after her hatching, was the only dragon I had met. I had no concept of the immensity that dragons could grow to. In my old life, I once saw a sperm whale while on a cruise from Washington State to Hawaii, and Glaedr seemed just as large, if not larger, with ten times the maneuverability and a hundred times the deadliness. When he swung his head around to look at me, I was terrified. I put a hand on the small dagger Eragon had given me right before our first hunting trip, a choked sob catching in my throat.

I probably would have recovered from my shock just fine, but Glaedr, accustomed to the openness of the elves, attempted to say hello. I screamed, slamming up the rudimentary mental barriers Brom taught me and dashed away, as fast as I was able. I was about to slide down the cliff when Oromis caught me around the waist and pulled me away from the ledge. That was the last straw before I fell into full-blown panic mode I twisted and yanked out the knife and plunged it into Oromis's thigh. The elf gasped and released me. Glaedr roared and I could hear the stone cracking under his claws as he rose. I leapt over the edge and skidded down towards a crevice I had noticed on my way up. Like a hunted rabbit retreating into its den, I tried to slip inside. It was just big enough for me to slip through, if I pulled my weapons and pack in separately. It only took a moment for me to do so and I retreated as far as the miniature cave would allow and crouched down, maintaining the mental wall with a recitation of "Twinkle, twinkle little star."

I wasn't sure how long had passed, but eventually, Oromis managed to break my concentration. "Ella," He stated firmly, reinforcing my name in my head as well.

I jolted back to myself, then let out a sharp cry of pain as the barrier stopped holding back the pain of the scrapes I earned in my dash down the crag and the quickly deepening cut where my unsheathed dagger sawed into the upper part of my right arm. The pain shocked me out of my panic.

I choked as I realized Oromis was kneeling inside my haven and part of the crevice looked to have been torn away. The dagger clattered to the ground. "Ella? Are you listening to me now?" He asked.

I nodded, clamping my hand over my bleeding arm and hiding my face behind my knees so I didn't see reflected light from Glaedr's scales illuminating the cave.

"Can I take care of your arm?"

I shook my head and pulled away.

"Why not?" He asked, voice softer than ever.

I shook my head.

"Will you come outside with me?"

I shook my head harder.

"Why not?"

"No," I choked out.

"Glaedr, could you please wait at the bottom of the crag?" Oromis requested.

There was a pause then the cacophony of cracking stone from Glaedr's claws, followed by the percussive beat of his wings, then the sound of him landing a distance away.

"Will you come outside with me now?"

I hesitated before nodding. Oromis backed out of the crevice. I wiped my eyes before following with my staff in hand to find Oromis sitting on a relatively flat ledge. There was a large, red stain over his left thigh. I glanced around to see Glaedr lying at the bottom of the crag, his eyes focused on Oromis. When he noticed my gaze, I flinched as his eyes flicked to me.

 _Hatchling, eka weohnata néiat haina ono. I will not harm you._

 _I'm sorry I harmed your Rider,_ I focused the thought in his direction.

Glaedr nodded once in acknowledgement before lowering his head. One lazy eye remained focused on Oromis, but he didn't look nearly as frightening as my first impression.

"Ella?" Oromis asked.

"Yes?" I swung my attention towards him.

"Come sit," Oromis gestured towards a spot beside him.

I sat down without complaint. Oromis began to tend to the scrapes and bruises across my hands, arms, and legs with a few words in the Ancient Language.

"It hasn't even been a day and she's already hurt! Has this been a trend for all of your students? As I recall, Brom was in the hospital after the first hour!" Islanzadí called up to us from where she stood with a hand on Glaedr's snout.

Oromis appeared to ignore her.

"Glaedr is not your messenger, Shur'tugal."

"No, he is not, but he is much more effective at getting my point across," Oromis responded under his breath.

"How so?" I asked

"You weren't supposed to hear that," Oromis responded.

"Hear what?"

He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Ready to meet Glaedr properly this time?"

I bit my lip and nodded.

"What's wrong?"

"He's bigger than Saphira."

"He older."

"How much?"

"A few hundred years."

I made a face. "That means you're _really_ old. Older than Brom and he's _old_."

Oromis erupted into laughter. After a moment, the sound of Glaedr's rumbling laugh reached us.

"What's so funny?" I asked innocently.

Oromis stood up and dusted off his robes. "You'll understand when you get older."

"How much older?"

"Older." He grasped my uninjured arm and pulled me to my feet. "Go get your pack."

I nodded and dashed into the crevice, pulling my quiver and bow onto my good shoulder, grabbing the pack in my hand.

"May I see?" He asked, holding his hand out for my things. I handed them over, and with a few murmured words, they floated away from the crag and lowered until they rested gently in front of Glaedr. "Ready?"

I nodded and he took my hand. Together, we slipped and slid down the slope. Twice, off-balance from the injury on my arm, I fell and would have tumbled down head first if Oromis hadn't been keeping my reckless slide in check. By the time we reached the bottom, Islanzadí was openly frowning.

"You're injured as well, what happened? Was someone else here?"

"It was just a misunderstanding."

"What kind of misunderstanding—" She broke off and turned to Glaedr, who was presumably explaining. "So you've decided to grant Brom's request?"

"What request?" I asked, confused.

Oromis produced the scroll and handed it to me. I opened it.

"I can't read the Ancient Language," I said as I recognized the characters scrawled across the page.

"I'll explain it to you later," Oromis assured me.

They both switched into the Ancient Language, leaving me out of the conversation.

Bored, I started to peek around Oromis to look at Glaedr. The dragon pretended to doze, but if I looked at Glaedr for more than a heartbeat, his eye would open and watched me as I jerked back behind Oromis. After a heartbeat, I would hear his eyelid close with a sharp click. Like a child, I found myself turning it into a game, trying to avoid getting caught by the dragon's gaze. Glaedr started to edge around Oromis and when the angle was just right, I slipped backwards to peek around Islanzadí instead. She ignored me and I was about to continue the game when Glaedr tapped me on the shoulder with his tail. I whipped around and caught one of the spines before Glaedr could withdraw it. He lifted it into the air, with me still holding on, and set me down in front of his face.

 _I won't harm you, hatchling,_ he assured me again.

"I believe you," I responded softly, too soft for Islanzadí to hear.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next few months I maintained a rather strict schedule. Every morning, an elf appointed to be my caretaker, Melda, would make me stay in bed until it was 'an appropriate hour for an elf-child to be running about' and then would make me sit down and eat breakfast before running or riding Folkvír to the Crags of Tel'naeir to be trained by Oromis and Glaedr for most of the day. In the evening, just before sunset, Oromis would send me back and I would spend as long as I could wandering around Ellesméra, talking to various elves. It took Melda less than a week to figure out my excursions and always made sure someone was accompanying me, to bring me back before it got too late.

It took me three weeks to learn enough of the Ancient Language to communicate, and from that point forward, he made me speak only in the language.

Before he would practice the staff with me or spar, Oromis made me master the Rimgar.

One day, I found Oromis and Glaedr, deep in meditation. Unwilling to interrupt, I flowed through the Rimgar and repeated every kata I knew a half-dozen times. When my teachers still remained in meditation, I sat down directly in front of Oromis to practice my own meditation. Almost two hours later, I still hadn't mastered the 'watch one and know all', I went into Oromis's house and dug up the scroll I was reading the day before.

I hadn't been reading very long when Oromis stumbled into the hut. "No lessons today, Ella," he murmured.

"Are you all right?" I asked when he laid down on his bed. I rushed to put the scroll away and ran over to kneel beside him. "Are you gonna be alright?" I asked again and pressed my hand against his forehead.

 _He will be fine, Ella,_ Glaedr answered me. _For now, we both need to rest. Go to the sparring grounds for the rest of the day and come back tomorrow._

"But he's not okay!"

 _Ella—_

"But—"

 _Ella._

"Yes, Master."

I did as I was told, but at the sparring grounds, the elf who volunteered to help me learn to apply my staff and refine my Drunken Fist style, Vanir, could tell I was distracted from the moment I completely missed his traditional first strike and he barely managed to lighten the blow to prevent injury. Even so, the flat of his blade struck me across the stomach and sent me flying backwards. I groaned and sat up. Thankfully, Vanir didn't ask what was wrong, only slowed down until I managed to bring my full attention to the present. He fought with a sword, determining long ago that I would fight more people with a sword than a staff, thus focusing my training on combating blades.

It didn't take long for me to dive into the match with gusto. Even though I hadn't quite accepted the fact that Ella was actually part elf, I could tell from the ease in which she moved, the greater speed, and a handful of other factors, I figured that they were probably right. I would never be as fast or as strong as the elves, but I already was more coordinated and stronger than any human child Ella's age. I was certainly faster than many adult humans, but not stronger because of my size. After our customary opening spar, instead of working on combat, Vanir had me work with the bow before dismissing me early. I wandered aimlessly around Ellesméra and went to sleep early.

When it was finally time to return to Oromis, I ran the entire way to find him sitting in his hut illuminating a scroll.

"What happened yesterday?" I demanded. "Are you alright? Why were you so tired?"

"Your adopted brother is coming to Ellesméra," Oromis explained. "I contacted him yesterday."

Just like that, Oromis diverted my attention from him. "When is he getting here? Can I go meet him? Where is he now? Is Saphira coming too? Does the queen know? Is anyone with him? Is Brom coming too?"

"He will be here soon, you may meet him at the edge of Du Weldenvarden, he is in Farthen Dur right now—"

"With the dwarves? Why was he with them? Is the Varden there as well?"

"Be patient and let me answer your questions before you pile more on." He waited until I was sitting still in the chair beside him to continue. "Saphira and Eragon are dragon and Rider, very rarely will you find one out of reach of the other. The queen does not know, Brom, Arya, and a dwarf are accompanying him to Ellesmera. You remember your history lessons, the dwarves live in the Beor mountains and have housed the Varden for quite some time." Oromis went quiet.

"Where can I meet them? When do I have to leave? Are you coming?"

"I will meet them outside Ceris. Glaedr is going to take me to meet them, are you going to fly or ride Folkvír?"

"I'll ride Folkvír," I answered automatically.

Oromis sighed and got that look on his face that told me he was having a private discussion with Glaedr.

"Do all riders do that?" I asked, annoyed.

"Do what?"

"Entertain themselves with private conversations with their dragons and exclude everyone else with an amused expression?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

I stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Come on outside, I want to show you something."

"No flying?"

"Just come on out."

I shook my head.

"How old are you again?"

"Little."

Oromis sighed and tried something new to get me to at least try flying on a dragon. "Did you ever stop to think, that, as my pupil, I am also your guardian and I determine whether or not you will be allowed to join Arya as the liaison with the Dwarves and the Varden?" He let that sink in. "I seem to remember you expressing an interest in the recruitment of the Urgals and becoming a liaison with them."

I glared at him. "I'm still riding Folkvír."

"I hope there's still parts of the city you haven't explored because it could be years before you'll be allowed to leave."

"You can't stop me."

"I think you'd be amazed at how much magic can do."

"That's not fair."

"Most people will kill for a chance to ride a dragon. It's the most wonderful experience, I can't understand why—"

I had no desire to listen to Oromis wax poetic about the wonders of flying. I stood up and marched out of the hut. Unfortunately, I didn't have centuries of experience training recalcitrant youngsters and walked right into the trap. The moment I stepped out of the house, Glaedr's claw wrapped around me and lifted me up to his eye.

" _Put me down_." I ordered, reinforcing it with a mental command.

Glaedr just laughed at me. I snarled back. _You would make a good dragon if you just learned to fly._

"I don't want to learn to fly. I am perfectly happy with my feet _on the ground_."

Oromis walked out of his hut dressed in his flying clothes. "We will return tonight. Now, will Glaedr be carrying you in his claws or will you be riding with me? Either way, it's past time you learned to fly."

"But _why_? I'm not a Rider!"

"What if you need to fly with Saphira, or be Eragon's decoy?" Oromis asked as he vaulted onto Glaedr's back.

"Eragon wouldn't let me be a decoy, and if I'd ever need to be flown out of a situation by Saphira or Glaedr I'd be unconscious and probably wouldn't have a say in the matter."

"Ah, but you don't have a say in the matter right now."

I squirmed in Glaedr's grip but only managed to contort myself into a very uncomfortable position.

"Let me ask again, will Glaedr be carrying you in his claw or will you be riding with me?"

I continued to squirm for a long moment, but finally, I realized I really had no choice but to relent. "Saddle," I grumbled out.

Oromis nodded and Glaedr placed me on my feet in front of Oromis. I tried to bolt, but the elf was at least twice as fast as me and pulled me down to sit behind him just as Glaedr rose and leapt into the air. I wrapped my arms around Oromis's ribs and held on as tightly as I could, my face buried in the back of his riding vest. "Stop cowering and look around," Oromis nudged me with his elbow.

"I look around and we're going to crash," I snapped back, my voice muffled.

"Glaedr won't let anyone fall."

"He can't catch himself. Well, unless he goes through time or something, but that's not going to happen because then there'll be a giant paradox and—"

"I'm not even going to ask."

"Does that mean I can ride on Folkvir?"

"No."

"You're a meanie."

Oromis didn't even dignify the statement with a response and only sighed as my arms tightened further around his ribs.

It was almost noon by the time Glaedr landed. I cast out my thoughts, searching for Eragon. I found him, but his thoughts were walled off so I couldn't make contact. I searched the area around him and found Brom, who gave me curt directions to where they stopped for lunch. I dashed off towards them before Oromis could swing himself out of the saddle. I was only a few hundred feet outside of their camp when I heard a blade sliding out of its sheath. I yelped and ducked, spinning my staff at lightning speeds until I could determine the identity of my attacker. I recognized Arya from the images Glaedr sent me and stopped.

"Hi, Arya! I was just going to see Eragon, is he in the camp?"

"Who are you? You're no elf, how did you get into Du Weldenvarden? How do you know my name?"

Whoops. I forgot she had absolutely no idea I existed. "I'm Ella and I'm only part elf. Brom sent me to Ellesméra and I came to meet Eragon."

Arya frowned and whipped her sword up to my throat. I knocked it away, too paranoid from Vanir's surprise attacks on the sparring ground.

"Can we not do the you attack me and I still get my way because Oromis is going to be here in a moment?"

"You have some interesting names on your tongue, little girl."

"M'name's Ella."

Arya whipped her sword around to attack and I responded with a sharp spin of my staff and started the very first defensive pattern Brom taught me, whipping the staff at lightning speed. She backed off for a moment, trying to analyze the weak points. Before she could determine anything, I retaliated by grabbing the end of the staff and swinging it at her shoulder. Compounded with the centripetal force of the spinning, it was all Arya could do to deflect the blow, but it left me open for a counterattack, of which Arya took full advantage. I let go of my staff as it landed beside me and fell onto my back to prevent decapitation. Arya took a step closer and I swung my legs at her knees, which she leapt over, followed by my staff, which caught her in the hip. Arya crashed to the ground. Accustomed to fighting Vanir, who tended to knock me away and repeatedly put me in the perfect position to counterattack, I flipped onto my feet and tackled Arya. In short order, I was flat on my back, Arya's belt knife digging into my wrist as I protected my throat. Well, shit, Vanir was going to beat me half to death for such a stupid mistake.

A hand wrapped around Arya's wrist before she could cause any serious damage. "If I have to tell you one more time to stop picking fights, Ella, I'm going to hand your training over to Glaedr."

I swallowed.

"You know her?" Arya snapped.

"She's my student," Oromis responded.

"I thought you only trained riders."

"She's a very special case."

"She's five? Six? What could you possibly teach her?"

"I'm nine."

Arya glared at me.

"Can I go see Eragon now?"

"Go," Oromis snapped.

Arya released me and I only stopped to grab my staff before dashing towards the campsite.

"Eragon!" I cried out and barreled towards my cousin. He automatically put a hand to his sword before he recognized me. I dropped my staff and leapt up to wrap my arms tightly around his neck. He swung me in a circle before setting me on the ground and brushing the hair out of my face. "You look old," I commented.

"Ella, I don't understand enough of the Ancient Language to communicate in it," Eragon responded in the human tongue.

"I'm sorry," I answered.

"I thought you were in Ellesméra, what brings you here?"

"I came to meet you with—" My oaths in the Ancient Language to not reveal the existence of Oromis and Glaedr prevented me from finishing my statement.

Brom ruffled my hair. "She said you looked old, son, and in the Ancient Language to boot, that must mean it's true."

"I'm sixteen!"

"She's eight—"

"Nine!"

The dwarves, with their hands on their weapons, laughed. I jerked as I noticed the assembled.

Eragon pulled me to the side to sit on Saphira's claw. "You got really big," I told her with a smile, nestling myself between two of her claws while Eragon leaned against her leg.

"Saphira says thank you."

"You can talk directly to me; I don't mind when—" My oath again prevented me from finishing my sentence.

 _Eragon tends to simplify my words, I appreciate that you noticed and I look forward to destroying enemies alongside you._

"I would comment on your appearance, but I wouldn't want to steal the words of the elves when they see you. They love pretty sights."

Saphira hummed as Arya returned and spoke to the dwarves. After a few minutes, all except one broke camp and began to march back towards the river. With her arms crossed sourly, Arya watched the dwarves leave. One of them sidled up to Eragon. "What lemon did she bite into?" He asked.

"That would be my fault," I answered in the Dwarvish I managed to wrangle out of Oromis.

"How many languages do you speak, young one?" The dwarf responded.

"Aren't you supposed to exchange names before starting a conversation?" My words were a bit halting and uncertain, probably mispronounced as well, but the dwarf understood me well enough.

"I am Orik, son of Thrifk, of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum."

"That's the—" I broke off, quickly recalling my lessons from Oromis, "Clan of metalworkers, correct?"

Orik nodded.

"I'm Ella. The elves like to call me älfa-dautr, but I prefer Ella, just Ella."

"I think your brother is a bit lost," Orik commented.

"All the more incentive for him to learn to speak with the other races. It's his job as a rider to mediate, but if he can't communicate, how's he supposed to do that?"

"You know, Brom said you were exasperating and enjoyed purposefully misinterpreting the meaning of statements, but—"

"I don't exaggerate," Brom grunted.

I stuck my tongue out at him, earning myself a whack on the back of my head. "Eragon! They're being mean to me!" I said in the human tongue.

"Father—" Eragon warned but the old man just snorted.

Arya marched up, shooting me dirty looks. "I don't trust you, little brat, no matter what Oromis says," she told me in the Ancient Language. I swallowed, terrified, but pleased with myself all the same. If she hated on me, Eragon would be much less likely to fully develop an infatuation with her.

"Ella? What's wrong? What did she say?" Eragon asked me.

Brom was frowning but no one bothered to translate for Eragon and Orik.

"I understand," I responded, ignoring Eragon.

"Leave it," Brom told Eragon. "It won't be worked out anytime in the near future. Ella, I sincerely hope you haven't lost my ring."

I shook my head sharply. "Queen Islanzadí kept it for safekeeping."

Brom nodded.

"Can we please get on to what needs to be done?" Arya interrupted impatiently. Brom gestured for her to continue. "Thank you. Before we proceed any further, Eragon, Orik, you must swear never to reveal what you are about to see to anyone without express permission from Togira Ikonoka."

Orik protested, but when Arya told him the direction to go in order to catch up to his brethren, he relented. She coached the two and Saphira through the oaths.

"Why haven't you had Brom or Ella recite the oaths?" Eragon asked once they finished.

"They've given them at a previous date."

I snorted. "What's so funny?" Eragon asked.

"Brom is _really_ old."

"What is so funny about being old?" Brom demanded, irritated.

"'Cause Eragon has no idea how old."

"Ella!" I heard Oromis snap as he appeared at the edge of the clearing. "Am I the only person you are capable of being respectful towards?"

"Yes," I responded, straightening.

"Ebrithil," Brom greeted.

Eragon frowned, confused as to why an elf would warrant such a vow. I poked him in the side, hard, and pointed upwards so he could see Glaedr circling above us, silent.

Both his and Saphira's mouths fell open as Glaedr dove and landed a hairsbreadth behind Oromis.

"You have questions, Dwarf." Oromis stated. Bored with the conversation, I wandered off to pick on Brom, dragging my staff behind me.

"I got really good with the staff, want to see?"

Brom sighed. "Did you fly here?"

I made a face.

"How was it?"

I scowled and whipped my staff forward to knock him on the head, but he blocked it with ease.

"Even after a hundred and thirty years, you still have to rub everyone the wrong way, Brom Holcombsson." Oromis contributed, exasperated.

Brom shrugged. "I assume everything went well with Ella?"

Oromis opened his mouth to respond, but it turned into a smirk. "Define 'well.'"

"Now you're just teasing me!" I protested.

Before Brom could respond, Eragon erupted into his own questions.

"I think explanations are best made after a nice meal," Oromis interjected.

Eragon fell silent as Oromis passed out small loaves of bread.

"A proper meal is waiting in Ellesméra. We'll fly—"

At that, I darted towards the trees, barely escaping Brom's grasp, only to find myself tackled by Eragon. I squirmed, trying to escape him, but he outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds and easily tossed me over his shoulder. "I thought you had a point about the flying thing but not anymore. Saphira is going to show you the wonders of flying—"

"No!" I cried, pounding on Eragon's back. I couldn't do much against the leather jerkin he wore and I wasn't willing to pull a knife on him.

"Take your father as well, Eragon," Arya said.

Eragon nodded and marched towards Saphira as Brom nimbly climbed onto Saphira's back. Eragon leapt to follow, but in midair, I jerked away from him. Saphira caught us in her wing, but I rolled off when she focused on Eragon's well-being first.

Unfortunately, Saphira was more intimately connected to Eragon than I thought and her claw pinned me to the ground before I could take more than a few steps. I yelped as I fell and my head struck the ground with a sharp crack. Everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

I was pretty sure I had learned my lesson to not mess with Dragon Riders and their obsessions. You would think Oromis, with more than a half-dozen centuries under his belt would be a bit more sympathetic to the fact that some people may not enjoy the same things as him, but _no_. I decided that I was going to start spending as much time with Orik as I could. Unless he developed some sort of fanaticism with flying. Besides, it would give me a chance to practice my Dwarvish. Orik should appreciate it. Maybe I could get him to teach me metal working. I was curious as to how powerful a metal staff could be. No, I wasn't obsessed with my weapon.

Okay, maybe I was a bit obsessed, but seriously! Who wouldn't be obsessed if a properly trained human wielding a staff could hold off, and maybe defeat, an elf. The forces a spinning staff could generate are comparable to the force an elf with a sword could produce. Imagine what an elf could do with a staff!

Fangirling is over now.

I groaned as I sat up back in my bed in Ellesméra. Melda appeared a moment later. "I thought you knew better than to not do as you were told," she commented as she shone a bright light into both of my eyes.

I scowled and reached up to touch my throbbing head. "I'm not going to talk to Eragon, Saphira, Glaedr, Oromis, or Arya for a long, long time." I told her.

"Of course, fortunately, Brom wanted to test your progress on the sparring grounds as soon as you were able."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"You returned to Ellesméra a few hours ago."

"Can I go back to sleep?"

"After dinner."

Melda picked me up and carried me, protesting, to the dining room table.

"I can do things by myself, you don't have to do it all for me, it's not like you're my mother."

The elf shrugged. "I like taking care of others."

"I appreciate it, but I don't like being taken care of."

She gave me that I'd-like-to-see-you-try-to-get-your-way look. I shivered. "You're my charge, at least for the time being."

I crossed my arms, but in the next minute, she placed a small tray of food in front of me and I tucked in. In true child-like fashion, I was nodding off over my food before I finished and had to be carried back to bed.

In the morning, Melda had to wake me up. My head had stopped throbbing for the most part and Brom was waiting for me in the dining room, talking cheerfully with her. I trudged into the room and sat down heavily, still in my pajamas. Brom stomped once and I straightened before laying my head back down on the table, grumbling about annoying people until my caretaker laid a tray of food in front of me.

"Is Brom annoying you?" I asked her, "Because he needs a good thrashing for being a cranky old man."

"It is remarkable that this language allows you to say some of the things you do."

"If I believe it's true, I can say it."

I glanced up from my food to see the stern looks directed my way.

"What?"

"Do you realize that I am younger than all but a handful of elves in Du Weldenvarden?"

"You look older than all of the elves I've seen." I stuck my tongue out at him.

Brom recognized a lost cause and changed the subject. "Has Oromis taught you any magic?"

I shrugged. "I never bothered to even ask about magic because languages, writing, history, culture, Rimgar, those awesome scrolls I hate returning, and even meditation were much more interesting. Oromis has had me channeling all my extra energy at the end of the day into this so I won't get tired in a big fight." I pulled the short chain, which held a small diamond pendant, to show him.

"Have you even tried magic?"

"No."

"Well, you are clearly proficient in your languages and I trust Oromis has taught you plenty in the areas you mentioned, so all that's left is to determine your aptitude for magic and test your skill with and without the staff."

"I can almost hold my own against Vanir, an elf. You're in for a surprise, old man."

"I know better than to pick a fight. As you said, I'm an old man and I'm no longer fit enough to fight with the youth."

I stuck my tongue out and finished off my breakfast. "I suppose you're going to be teaching me magic while Oromis and Glaedr tutor Eragon and Saphira in Rider secrets?"

"No, I'm just curious. Oromis is spending today quizzing Eragon on everything he knows and neither of us have anything to do today so you can sate my curiosity."

"I normally talk to Rhunön on my days off or meditate," I told him bluntly.

"Well, a change of pace should be welcome."

"Not really."

Brom ignored me. "Can I see that necklace?" I nodded and handed it over. He ran the chain through his fingers and examined the clasps and even the diamond itself. "It looks like a clear version of Isidar Mithrim."

"It is. I read about it in one of Rhunön's scrolls on great works of art and asked whether it refracted light in a particular pattern. She tossed this at me from an old box, saying the gem was made by the dwarves and she made the chain in an attempt to make something unbreakable. She wasn't entirely successful, she said it would take a powerful spell to break it, so she told me to keep it 'cause she hated it and few elves were interested in dwarvish art. It's diamond, so it won't break either."

Brom nodded. "This is a priceless work."

I shrugged. "Rhunön called it a frustrating piece of trash 'cause it's not perfect."

With a snort, Brom handed it back. "You have an impressive cache of energy in there."

"Thank you."

"I'm assuming you're going to go spar with Vanir."

"Yes," I grumbled.

"Are you going to get dressed?"

I was about to say no but Melda frowned in warning. I stood up and trudged back to my room. In five minutes, I was dressed and dragging my staff and quiver behind me.

"Brush your hair," she ordered.

"No."

" _Brush your hair_."

"He didn't," I pointed at Brom, who started.

The next instant, a comb hovered in front of both of us.

Brom laughed as he took it out of the air and brushed back his hair. I crossed my arms stubbornly. I hated Ella's curls, and every time I touched them, I thought of my own pin-straight hair that always stayed in its ponytail. Unfortunately, there was no elastic bands in Alagaësia. Ribbons and leather cords just didn't cut it. I had kept my hair at jaw-length so it didn't catch on anything and pinned it out of my eyes with two of the dozen metal barrettes Rhunön had thrust into my hands when my hair obscured my peripheral and hampered my vision, constantly put me underfoot.

Not that the smith liked me or tolerated my presence at first, but my stubbornness could rival hers. I liked to watch her work in the fires and ask questions. She never answered them, but after her first few futile attempts to order me out, she tried ignoring me. When that did nothing to deter my minor pyromaniac tendencies, she set me to menial tasks. It took three weeks of increasingly exhausting and boring work for her to say anything but brisk orders. She had asked why the hell I wouldn't leave her in peace. I answered that her forge was the only place the elves didn't follow me to or laugh at everything I said. She rolled her eyes at my answer and at the end of each day would have short conversations with me before sending me away. I grew on her, but she was still quite nasty if I put a toenail out of line. Not that I cared how mean she was.

I had been planning to spend most my day hiding in Rhunön's forge, avoiding everyone, but Brom seemed determined to ruin my plans. Melda took it upon herself to yank the comb through my hair and I barely managed to take the barrettes out in time. A minute and a half later, I counted, my caretaker finished, I slid the barrettes back into my hair and dashed out the door, weapons bouncing on my back. In five minutes, I arrived at the sparring grounds.

"Ella!" Vanir called out from where he sparred with another elf, Eruadan, who specialized in short swords and daggers. He taught me the basics to wielding my belt knife.

"Hide me!" I pleaded.

"Sorry, kid, Brom wants to see you fight."

"You're taking his side?" I asked, incredulous.

Vanir snorted. "He beat me twice when he was a student in Ilirea. For a human, that's almost unheard of. Even old, I respect his former skill. A little elf with a stick isn't going to usurp that."

I stuck my tongue out at him, but sucked it back into my mouth when he tossed a knife at me. Unfortunately, the movement knocked his balance off just enough so that Eruadan was able to disarm him.

I laughed as the two disengaged. "What was that about—"

"Shut up, Ella. Brom-elda!" Vanir called out. Most of the sparring ground bowed to Brom as he approached. I crossed my arms stubbornly.

"Why am I not surprised?" I scowled. Brom knocked me on the head with his staff. I stuck out my tongue at him.

He shrugged. "I know my fair share of the staff. Maybe a fight is what it takes to teach you a scrap of respect."

I shoved my quiver at Vanir. "I'm ready, old man."

"She fights dirty, Brom-elda," Vanir noted.

"Don't give away my secrets," I snapped at him. Everyone started to gather around.

With a move that would have intimidated me, had I not laughed at it so many times on TV, Brom pulled off his ragged coat and tossed it to the side, spinning his staff experimentally. Without any warning whatsoever, he attacked. I knocked the strike over my head and started to spin the oak staff at wicked speeds. Brom smirked and attacked the weak point, only I had spent hours with Vanir working out a counter. Brom's attack struck me across the front of my hips, but I absorbed the impact and grabbed his staff, tossing mine away from him. I used the element of surprise to twist the staff out of his hands, flattening myself on top of it. The sound of sliding steel was the only warning I had to roll out of the way of his next attack, using his staff to block. I swung the staff and forced Brom to leap over the strike and remain in the air long enough for me to stand and toss his staff beside mine to face him with my belt knife. Brom was a bit more careful, considering we both held live blades. Za'roc gleamed in the sunlight.

I darted forward, but instead of committing to an attack against me like I expected, Brom remained on the defensive. That wouldn't do. I wasn't good enough to get past his guard and if he never attacked, we would be stuck at a stalemate. I staggered to the side after a particularly hard block and let myself fall, hoping Brom would react on instinct. He did, and swung his sword at me. Unlike Brom, I was prepared to give and gain injury. Vanir was a strong enough spellcaster that he could heal almost any injury I could deal out.

I raised my arm to expose my left side to Brom's backhand strike. His eyes widened and he barely managed to turn the blade far enough to hit me with the flat of it instead of causing a potentially lethal injury. I clamped my arm over the blade and laid my wrist against it, tearing Za'roc out of Brom's hand, slackened by horror. The blade flew behind me and I completed the rotation to stab at Brom with my belt knife.

I turned the blade so I wouldn't kill him and struck his chest just over his heart with my fist. Well, I tried. He grasped my wrist and struck at my elbow hard enough to break it, had I not kicked my feet out to throw myself on my back, causing the strike to land on the crook of my elbow instead of the side. It still forced me to drop the belt knife, but it wasn't enough for Vanir or one of the other elves to call the match. I used his grip on my wrist to lever myself into a spinning kick at Brom's knee. He released me and turned to kick me in the stomach. I knew I was going to regret it, but instead of rolling away, like I should have, I tightened my core and let the strike land, rolling just enough for it to lift me into the air. Just like I did with the staff, I grabbed Brom's leg with one hand, slammed my elbow into the back of his leg, causing one hell of a dead leg. I took the opportunity to roll away and reclaim my staff. Unfortunately, Brom could use magic, and by the time I picked up my staff, he had already healed whatever damage I caused and reclaimed Za'roc.

As we faced off, I ran through the mental checklist Vanir drilled into me about continuing a fight. First, I was injured, Brom wasn't. Strike one against continuing. Second, he was much better, and bigger than me. Strike two. Third, I was already tired and my bruises were not only hindering my movement, but they were sapping my energy and attention as well. Strike three. "I concede," I said, but it came out as more of a wheeze. I dropped my staff and lifted the side of my shirt to look at the burning imprint of Za'roc on my side. It bled from the bottom of the wound where Brom hadn't quite managed to turn the blade far enough. "I probably should have blocked that one instead," I commented aloud.

"No, you need to start listening to your elders about picking fights you can't win," Vanir responded as the small audience dispersed.

"I'm assuming you're not going to heal this for me because I need to learn a lesson."

"That's going to turn nasty alongside the others," Brom answered.

Vanir offered to close the cut, but I shrugged and told him it would be fine.

In my opinion, I did well. Given that Vanir wasn't giving me the run-down of everything I did wrong, I figured he thought I did well enough to avoid a lecture.

"You're not going to be fit enough to fight for a few days at least, Ella, now go do whatever you do when you're not here. No more fighting!"

I saluted Vanir and picked up my things before dashing away. The instant I was off the sparring grounds, I stopped running, a bit faint from pain, and stumbled down rarely-used paths back to my room, holding my shirt so the blood didn't stain my trousers. I closed the door to the small house, relieved that Melda wasn't there, and kicking myself for playing it macho and not allowing Vanir to close the wound.

I dropped my staff and quiver just inside the door and hurried towards the bathroom. I had to choke down panic as I realized that there was already blood soaking the waistband of my pants. I realized that I'd probably need stitches and grabbed the roll of fabric I kept in my original pack from Carvahall that was supposed to be used for mending clothes. It would have to do more than mend clothes.

I quickly stripped off my clothes and turned on the warm water for the tub, extremely conscious of the sweat and dirt coating my skin. There was no way my pride would let Brom or Vanir realize the extent of the injury. Persistently ignoring the panic, I knelt in the water and used a washcloth to thoroughly clean the wound, biting back a whimper by focusing on my first-aid lessons from my years as a flight attendant. I chanted the most annoying song I knew as I struggled to stop my hands from shaking long enough to thread the needle and tie a knot at one end. The warm water around my waist calmed my nerves enough for me to start sewing the wound together with clumsy knots. The process was made even more difficult as my elbow stiffened with a nasty bruise and the bath water turned red with my blood. I managed to close up the worst of the wound, then emptied the bath, rinsed the blood away, and refilled it, a dry washcloth clamped over the cut. I was quickly finding it more difficult to breath, but whether it was from panic or something more serious, I couldn't tell. My head throbbed from blood loss and getting knocked out the night before as I laid back in the warm water.

"Ella?" Melda knocked on the door. "Are you alright? Why is there blood on the floor?"

"I'll be fine," I assured her in my best normal voice.

"You are most certainly not fine right now, älfa-dautr, may I come in?"

"No, don't come in."

"Do I have to go get Oromis-elda?"

"No, he's doing something really important right now and can't be disturbed."

"Then I'll go find Vanir—"

"No! I'll be fine, I swear, just let me be, please."

"I can't do that, Ella."

"Yes, you can, you have to, please."

"Are you hurt?"

"I'll be fine."

"Do you want me to go get your brother? I heard he just arrived in Ellesméra."

"No!"

"What is wrong, älfa-dautr?"

"I'll be fine," I maintained.

"If you don't give me a straight answer, älfa-dautr—"

"Please, just let me be!" I cried and bent over.

Melda forced the door open even as I begged her to stay out.

She didn't fuss over me or demand any explanations, she just knelt down beside the tub and cleaned off the rest of the grime with a fresh washcloth, took the barrettes out of my hair, before gently rinsing away the dirt. As soon as she was done, she lifted me out of the tub and wrapped me in warmed towels before leaving for a moment to retrieve a clean change of clothes.

She helped me dress and as she tied the drawstring of the child-sized elven clothes, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. With the blood beginning to ooze from underneath the wadded towel, I realized exactly how small Ella really was. She was slender, built like most elves, but still small and appeared very young. If I had to guess, Ella looked to be about six. I frowned. I had always assumed that Ella was actually five when Eragon had found her, but as started to reexamine her memories with the mind of an adult, I realized that there was no way Ella could have remembered as much as she did about her infancy, even if she was part elf and possessed a photographic memory. The bits and pieces of psychology I could recall from my world, combined with the science lessons from Oromis, told me that Ella's brain would not have had enough experience and exposure to the world to recall and understand the memories it did. At the same time, no parent, elf, human, dwarf, or even Urgal, especially the caring parents in Ella's memories, would allow a toddler child to wander alone in the woods. The only conclusion I could come up with was that Ella was actually significantly older than she appeared when Eragon found her, judging by the number of harvests she remembered, she was at least ten, probably a few years older. Adding the years she lived with Eragon, she was probably closer to his age than the nine years old I maintained. I tucked that away as an interesting tidbit, concluding that Ella's body probably aged at least three times slower than a normal human child. I made a mental note to ask Oromis if elves and humans aged at different speeds.

Melda carefully bandaged the cut and helped me pull the shirt over my head, then tied the neckline so it laid flat against my collarbone.

"You look beautiful in elvish clothing," she commented.

"I really don't care how I look."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't care." She guided me out of the bathroom to sit in the dining room with a cup of warm tea. I didn't care for the taste of tea, I just enjoyed the smell and the warmth. It provided an odd sort of comfort.

Someone knocked on the door. Annoyed that the elvish fabric did not completely obscure the bandage and the darkening bruises, I opened the door, my arms folded across my chest in an attempt to distract from them.

Brom was leaning against the door frame. "You left pretty quick earlier, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," I assured him and moved to close the door.

Brom put a hand out to stop me. "Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"Would you like to try your hand at magic?"

"Can it wait?"

"Not really."

"Why—"

"Do you know my reasoning for sending you Ellesméra?"

"A bit of it."

Brom hummed, tapping his pipe on his nose. "May I come in?"

"No."

"Then come for a walk with me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

Melda put a hand on my shoulder and opened the door. "Come in, Brom-elda." She murmured, steering me out of the way.

I marched off to hide in my room, leaving my door opened slightly so I could hear.

"It she alright?"

"Define 'alright,'" Melda responded. "She understands far more than her age would suggest, and far more than many would consider healthy."

"I know that, but there is something much different about her."

"Think about how you would react if you were reunited with your older brother, only to find he's usurped your position as a student of one of the most respected individuals in an entire race, through no merit of his own."

"Ella's not that petty, she understands why Eragon—"

"Brom-elda, with all due respect, Ella is nine years old. She may understand the situation, but she also understands that, as Oromis-elda's student alongside Eragon, she is going to be compared to him in every way."

"Why is that—"

"Do you have any idea how brilliant that little girl is? In a few months, she's mastered this language better than many elves who have spoken it their entire lives, as well as Dwarvish and some Urgal. That is only in one of the aspects of her education. According to Oromis-elda's reports to Queen Islanzadí, she excels in history, logic, and strategy, all while challenging assumptions and avoiding prejudice. She guards her mind like a nesting dragon guards her eggs and has all of the makings of a powerful spellcaster. There is no way Eragon can measure up, at least not for some time, and she knows that. Forgive her for not enjoying the prospect of demotivating the last hope of an entire land." I never thought of it that way.

"Eragon is—"

"Human. Immature. Poorly educated. Can barely communicate. While no one means it as an insult, they are frustrated and disappointed. Ella came here to learn. If she was in control of her own education, she would never have been found on the sparring grounds or outside of the library. Eragon came here for power. Eventually, the two will find themselves on the same sparring ground and facing off. You may have defeated Ella but you have over a century of experience, but how many of Ella's attacks would have beaten a human with less experience?"

Brom didn't answer.

"Ella is still young, immature, idolizes Eragon, and understands very well that he is being set up for failure."

I winced, damn right she was. At least until the Agaetí Blödhren. She wasn't right about why I was upset, but I had no desire to correct her.

I was about to close the door when I realized Brom wasn't leaving. "As soon as Galbatorix realizes she exists, she is going to be targeted."

"She doesn't have to go to the Varden."

"Ajihad is dead. As much as I hate to bring children into a war, if she proves to be a spellcaster of any skill, she will be needed, especially by the Du Vrangr Gata. Even if she isn't a spellcaster, her mastery of this language and apparent mental prowess will be necessitated."

There was a long silence.

"I'll be leaving to assist the Varden sometime in the next few days, Nasuada needs all the help she can get."

"You're finally going to nurture your brainchild?"

"I have done my job; I have brought the next rider safely to Ellesméra to be trained. I have a duty to the Varden that is now unavoidable."

"Are you going to take Ella with you?"

"As evidenced with Eragon, I am not an optimal teacher. She would learn more here. I will send for her and Eragon when it's time."

Another long silence, punctuated by the sound the teacups, ensued.

"I'm assuming she will be spending the next few months learning magic," Melda stated.

"Yes, I've spoken with Oromis and he's agreed, reluctantly of course, and on the condition that Ella says she would be willing to fight for the Varden. If she won't fight, she will remain here and assist in the preparations while Oromis focuses on Eragon."

"Has she been told this?"

"No."

"I see. If I may suggest, be straight with the girl. She can handle the truth and it would take quite a powerful mind to break into hers, in fact, she provides a challenge even for Orimis-elda."

"Noted, but I dislike the idea of burdening one as young as her."

"You have no problem placing everything on Eragon's shoulders."

"No one has a choice with Eragon. We do with Ella. I best be off, there are matters I need to settle with Queen Islanzadí."

As soon as I was sure he was gone, I emerged from my room and retook my seat.

"You were listening, were you not?"

"I was listening."

"Why?"

"Curious."

"Oromis-elda should be done interrogating your adopted brother by now, you should go talk to him."

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm mad at him."

"Who?"

"Master and Eragon."

"Why?"

"They made me fly on dragons."

"Your avoidance of flying is ridiculous."

"I know."

"Yet you still insist on it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because dragons use magic to fly and they might run out of energy and there's nothing to catch them."

"Dragons don't ever run out of magic to fly."

"How would you know?"

"I just do."

"I don't believe you."

Melda sighed. "You're not going to give this up?"

"I'll fly when I absolutely need to."

"I suggest you tell Oromis-elda that. Folkvír is outside waiting for you."

"You're kicking me out," I summarized bluntly.

"Until dinnertime."

"Fine," I answered and stood up.

"Don't forget your staff."

I grabbed the staff on my way out, but pointedly left my quiver and bow.

Folkvír nudged my face as I stepped out of the house. I allowed my mind to partially connect to his.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling too well, I need help getting to Oromis's house, can you take me?"

Folkvír nickered an affirmative. I strapped my staff across my back before climbing onto Folkvír's back. He took off at a gallop.

"Whoa! There's no need to hurry!"

He automatically slowed to a walk and I laid back so my head rested on his haunches to watch the clouds through the branches of the trees.


	7. Chapter 7

My routine changed little in the months before the Agaetí Blödhren. Oromis made it so Eragon's schedule rarely matched up to mine, except when we were working with magic and practicing the Rimgar. Of the time we spent together, I witnessed only one of Eragon's pain-wracked episodes. The first time, it scared me almost as bad as my first encounter with Glaedr. I ran into Oromis's hut and barricaded myself in his closet. It took Oromis over an hour to coax me out. After that, he was much more careful to make sure we were apart when Eragon was doing anything known to trigger the seizures.

I thought long and hard about what I would contribute at the Agaetí Blödhren. I was sorely tempted to build a small airplane. The only problem was that I didn't have the ability, magic or otherwise, to shape the metal necessary for its construction. Instead, I decided to take a different idea from my world. Using a scroll on fairths Oromis lent me with quite a bit of skepticism as he handed it over, I built a fairth and experimented until I managed to create one, nearly on accident, that would play a few seconds of looped movement, like a GIF from my world. I spent hours experimenting on bringing up the pictures, but they all appeared blurry, or partially unfocused. Three days before the Agaetí Blödhren, I gave up and went to Oromis for help. He was rather impressed and immediately tried it out, successfully making a GIF of me scowling.

"That's not the picture I wanted to make. How did you do it?" I demanded, scowling.

"It's part of the 'watch one, know all' aspect of your meditation," he answered, wiping the image. "What do you plan on calling this?"

"A GIF," I answered distractedly, still scowling. "I'm going to go meditate until I figure this out."

Oromis chuckled as I passed Eragon on the way out, too distracted to recognize his presence.

"What was that all about?" Eragon asked.

"She's just been properly motivated to accomplish the purpose of meditation."

I didn't hear anything further as I dashed away to the stump I meditated on.

On the morning of the Agaetí Blödhren, I succeeded in creating a looped image of dragons in every size and color rising from the forest of Du Weldenvarden and flying in circles around each other before landing and resuming the process. When I returned to Oromis's hut, a bit wobbly on my feet and grinning foolishly, he immediately directed me to Melda, who was not pleased about the fact I spent two days and nights outside, to clean me up for the festival.

The festival itself was a blur for me. I remembered Eragon and Saphira's contributions, presenting my own, alongside another blank one for the elves to try out among themselves, curling up among the roots of the Menoa tree more than once to sleep, and the dragons granting Eragon his elvish appearance and powers. After the celebrations were over, I trudged over to Oromis's hut where he was working with Eragon.

"G'mornin'," I mumbled and sat down at Oromis's feet, still half-asleep.

The elf sighed and lifted me onto his lap. I laid my head against his shoulder as he continued explaining a concept to Eragon.

"Ella? Were you listening?" Oromis prodded.

"No," I answered. "Shhh, I'm tired."

With an exasperated sigh, Oromis continued his lecture to Eragon.

A bit of shouting from Eragon's end ensued, which roused me for real this time.

"What'd I miss?" I asked, rubbing my eyes as Eragon continued to yell at Oromis.

"You knew that would happen! Why didn't you warn me?"

"Eragon—"

Saphira interrupted with a growl from where she rested beside Glaedr. Eragon stormed off.

"What was that all about?" I asked as Saphira laid her head back down and rolled into a patch of sunlight.

"If you were listening—"

I struggled to stifle a large yawn.

"You would know. I dislike repeating myself."

"Okay then, I'll just ask Eragon later. Can I go back to sleep?"

"No, go bring Eragon back, there's more I need to tell him."

"Send Saphira, he's her Rider and I'm comfortable."

 _I'm comfortable as well,_ Saphira protested.

"Ella, go."

"Fine." I closed my eyes and reached out for Eragon's mind. _Oromis says you gotta come back._ I told him.

"I meant for you to get up and walk, Ella."

"I'm tired and Saphira would have done the same thing, as would have Glaedr. You never complain when the dragons are lazy."

 _That's because there is no arguing with dragons. There is arguing with little girls._ Saphira reasoned.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are exceptionally arrogant?"

Saphira hummed. _I think Eragon tried once. He nearly lost his eyebrows._

I gaped at her.

"All dragons are arrogant and conceited, Ella." Oromis tapped my mouth closed as Eragon returned.

"What do you want?"

"Both of you, Rimgar, now."

I stood up and took the place beside Eragon without complaint.

Weeks later, Oromis met us both in front of his hut with a box sitting on the small table outside.

"Eragon, you have learned as much as is possible about being a Rider. Brom has just sent word that the Varden are about to face Galbatorix's army. You are needed, Eragon, Saphira. Ella, you have a choice to make. Of all human spellcasters, save Riders, you are exceptional, if young and untested. The Varden has requested your help as a part of their force of magicians. If you wish, you may go with Eragon and fight, you may remain here and march with the elves to attack Galbatorix from the north while the Varden invades from the south. It is entirely up to you."

"I'm staying with Eragon," I said firmly, without hesitation.

Oromis nodded. "Very well. I took the liberty of asking Rhunön to forge you this."

He held out a solid black staff.

"It's metal, so it's a bit heavier than yours, but it's strengthened with spells to prevent it from breaking, thus making it much stronger and less susceptible to wear like your oak staff. Rhunön also forged you this," he handed me a small leather pack, "Some elvish armor, which you will need in coming times. Inside, from Vanir, is also a small, but powerful, elvish bow enhanced with spells, since yours is also quite worn out and you have grown strong enough for a heavier draw."

I took the gifts, numb with awe, stepping away to spin the staff experimentally, and noting the grooves in either end to add weights or blades if I wanted to, as well as ridges to tie a strap on so I could carry it across my back if needed. I noticed Oromis giving Eragon his gifts as I knelt to examine the armor and bow. The pack held blades for the end of my staff, as well as a new, proper belt for my dagger.

I pulled on the string of the bow experimentally before unstringing it and putting it away. "Brom said that the battle is meant to take place on the Burning Plains, if you remember your geography."

"I don't forget lessons that easily!" I protested.

"And will you be riding Folkvír across the Hadarac Desert?"

"No, I'm riding with Eragon an Orik! There's no way Folkvír could make it in time. Besides, It'll give me a chance to try out my pet project!"

"What pet project?"

I crossed my arms. "That would be a spoiler!" I had made a sort-of foldable glider, modeled after Aang's glider from ATLA. The spells to keep it in the air would take a ridiculous amount of energy, so I was hoping the rising hot air from the desert would be enough to stay up and the currents that formed behind Saphira's wings would pull it forward at a good pace. I knew it would work well as a kite, but that wasn't the kind of application I was looking for, though it sounded like fun.

Oromis looked like he wanted to ask more, but the arrival of Islanzadí and Orik distracted him.

I pulled away from the meeting to run through katas with my new staff. An idea popped into my head.

"Master, Master!" I called out and dashed forward. "Metal conducts energy, right?"

"Don't—" Everyone tried to stop me but it was too late, I had channeled a bit of energy into the staff, feeling it heat up in my hands, and rapped it against Eragon's leg. Eragon swore beautifully in the human tongue and hopped on one foot.

"Cool!" I said.

"Hit someone else next time!" Eragon protested.

"Sure," I agreed, "When you stop swearing like a sailor and teaching me new words." Orik edged away from me.

"Go back to your lodging and pack your things, Glaedr and I will accompany you to the edge of the forest." I leapt onto Folkvír's back, who I rode to meet Oromis, and dashed back to my room. With the weight of an adult on his back, Folkvír was fast. With the weight of me on his back, Folkvír was a blur of white, even leaping over a group of laughing elves who didn't move out of the way fast enough.

Even though Melda didn't like it, I allowed Folkvír to follow me inside.

Elves found it slightly odd to talk to horses like people, so I tended to avoid talking to Folkvír aloud when others were around, but Melda wasn't there, nor was anyone else, so I talked to the horse. He could understand most of what I said and liked me to boot.

"I'm gonna miss you, buddy, I wish I could bring you with me. That would be cool, wouldn't it? To ride into the Varden. You'd be the biggest horse there while I'd be the smallest soldier. Ironic, right?" I tossed all my clothes onto my bed, a menagerie of elf and human clothing, alongside the barrettes from Rhunön and the leather armband to protect my arm from the lash of my bowstring. I felt a little queasy when I realized that it was all of the possessions I had, and it all fit into the pack, excluding my old bow and staff, which I attached my glider contraption to. I frowned and looked at Folkvír. Was it just my imagination, or was he thinking the same thing as me? "I think the main road is wide enough to try, what do you think? Then we don't have to wait for the desert." I swear Folkvír smirked at me. "I'm trying it," I decided, sending images to Folkvír of what I was going to do and the help I would need. He was most certainly on board. With deft movements, I fashioned a harness to connect us, using my new staff to stabilize it across Folkvír's back and keep my pack in place.

I leapt onto his back and he trotted out the door towards the beginning of the main street of Ellesméra. On the way, I took off my shoes and stashed them in my pack so I wouldn't hurt Folkvír's back. He lined up at the beginning of the street while I adjusted the connecting rope so I wouldn't accidentally fly too high and tangle myself in the tree branches. I stood on Folkvír's back and opened the wings of the glider.

"Everybody watch out!" I called to the street. Faces turned towards me and I urged Folkvír into a run. Okay, I couldn't resist the musical accompaniment in the human tongue as I stood up and glanced over my shoulder to make sure the glider was intact. " _With tuppence for paper and string, you can have your own set of_ wings," I crouched on Folkvír's back. " _With your feet on the ground, you're a bird in a flight_ ," Folkvír started to run and I felt the wind begin to catch in the canvas as the elves moved out of the way. " _With your fist holding tight to the string of your kite_ ," I had to concentrate for a moment to feel the proper moment to leap upwards. The second I was in the air, I belted out, " _Let's go fly a kite, up to the highest height_ ," I rose quickly, the rope unravelling. " _Let's go fly a kite and send it soar-ing_!" Folkvír slowed down a bit so I would stay in the air instead of getting dragged back to earth. " _Up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear_ ," I noticed the end of the road approaching fast an started to descend. " _Oh, let's go fly a kite_!" I finished, my feet landing firmly on Folkvír's haunches, just as the horse was forced to stop in order to avoid running over an unhappy Islanzadí.

I winced as I realized that stunt took place directly in front of the elves' capitol building. I was going to get scolded, I knew it.

"That was quite the composition, älfa-dautr."

"Thank you. It's catchy, isn't it?"

"Very much so. I believe you have someplace to be."

"Right. I gotta go talk to Eragon now, thank you for everything!"

Folkvír trotted away as I untied the harness from both of us and stuffed the rope in my pack, all while balancing my staff and glider.

I leapt off his back and said goodbye as we reached the place where Eragon and Orik were waiting, then leapt from Saphira's knee to her wing joint and waited for Eragon to tie down my staff and pack, but holding on to my glider.

Eragon just shrugged and sat down in the saddle so I could take the place behind him. In short order, we were flying alongside Glaedr and Oromis. With a final farewell, they returned to Ellesméra while we continued into the Hadarac Desert.

When we were deep enough into the desert to feel the hot updrafts, a powerful tailwind making it so Saphira rarely had to flap her wings, I explained to her what I was planning, leaving Eragon out so he couldn't protest.

"I'm going to try something," I told Eragon and Orik before standing up in the saddle. Saphira slowed down and I clambered over Saphira's other two passengers and up her neck. I snapped open the glider and allowed the wind to yank my backwards. A minute of flailing, during which I had to block Eragon out of my mind and even Saphira asked if I needed help, showed me exactly how overconfident I had been. Eventually, I managed to stabilize the glider and steer it into the wind currents behind one of Saphira's wings. She started to lecture me about how stupid the move had been before admiring my fake wings.

Only after she told me that Eragon had calmed down enough to speak civilly did I allow him into my mind.

 _What were you thinking?_ He demanded.

 _It was stupid of me to jump headlong into this attempt, but effective._ I shifted out from behind Saphira's wing and dove towards the ground. _Watch this._

I twisted in the air, Saphira diving behind me, just in case I lost control, then pulled up sharply, shooting into the air on an updraft and twisting past them, letting my instincts take over.

 _I know what I'm doing, just like Saphira._

 _Why didn't you contribute this at the Agaetí Blödhren?_

 _Because this is mine and I'm not willing to share it._

 _And you were willing to share those moving fairths?_

 _They're pretty, this is practical, and I want to master it before anyone can steal my thunder._

Saphira settled back into our intended path of travel and I flew on her wing.

 _You're a worry wart,_ I told Eragon.

He ignored me. Quite successfully.

(o)

I alternated between riding on Saphira's back and flying on my glider until we reached the Varden's encampment. Luckily, I was riding with Eragon at the time, because watchmen automatically panicked. Before they could shoot at us, I touched their minds and assured them that it was Eragon Shadeslayer, not another Rider, with words in the Ancient Language. They allowed us to land and hustled us off to Nasuada. Brom greeted us heartily, introducing me to Nasuada. Conditioned by the elves, I automatically pressed two fingers to my lips and greeted her in the Ancient Language. She surprised me by properly responding, then asked me what my intentions were, though not in the Ancient Language.

"I want to help to the best of my ability. I'm a decent enough spellcaster, if not the strongest. I can speak Dwarvish, the Ancient Language, Urgal, and this tongue fluently, and I am proficient in numerous other languages, including many of the languages spoken by the Wandering Tribes. I wield the staff and bow well enough."

"How old are you?"

"Almost ten, but I'm not entirely sure 'cause no one knows when I was born."

Nasuada nodded before tuning to address the others. "Orik, a number of your kinsmen are here working on the defenses. If you would like, you may go take control of them."

Orik nodded and left quickly, leaving only me, Eragon, and Brom with Nasuada.

"Eragon, I would like you to go to the Du Vrangr Gata and take control of the organization, since your father has so stubbornly refused to do so. Leave your bags here, I will have someone take care of them."

Eragon untied the bags from Saphira's saddle and placed them in a corner of the pavilion before leaving on Saphira.

"Jörmundur has been insisting that I appoint myself a personal guard. Brom, please go an inform the council that I have agreed to consider his demand."

Brom nodded and left.

She waited a moment before standing. "Follow me."

I frowned as she led me out the back of the pavilion and into a private room. She gestured for me to sit at a low table and rang a small bell. A handmaiden entered with a small plate of food, bowing as she left.

"Eat," she offered. I took a plate and a handful of the unseasoned vegetables.

I picked up a small carrot and was about to put it in my mouth when something didn't feel right. I put it back on the plate and murmured a spell in the Ancient Language, under my breath, to detect adverse substances. When the spell turned out positive, I automatically reached over the table and grabbed Nasuada's wrist.

"There's something wrong with the food," I told her.

"I assure you, those who prepare my food are thoroughly vetted." Nasuada twisted her arm out of my hand.

"I assure you, there is something wrong with the food! Give me two minutes and I'll be able to tell you what it is."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Humor me."

At a twitch of her finger, I started muttering over my plate. A minute and fifty-three seconds later I had determined the substance.

"It's a powerful hallucinogen meant to make someone extremely susceptible to manipulation for long periods of time with few side effects."

"Really now?"

"Why would I lie? You should be calling your guards and questioning everyone!"

"That would include you."

"So? Why aren't you—" I broke off, confused at why she was so nonchalant about the situation. "You knew about it?" I asked, my fists clenching. I was acutely aware of the fact that I had no weapon whatsoever. My belt knife was in my bag to prevent any accidental damage to my glider, which, along with my staff, was tied to my quiver by my pack. My eyes darted around the room and at a silent test, I found each wall to be warded so no one could enter or leave without Nasuada's approval. I was stuck. "The hallucinogen was meant for me," I concluded.

Nasuada clapped twice. "Good job."

"Was it a test or an attempt to control me against my will?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know you. I've only heard stories that may have been exaggerated. You're smart, I can tell, but I'm smart too and both scenarios are equally probable."

Nasuada steepled her fingers and studied me. I felt a flash of irritation that her gaze made me shift uncomfortably. I was a full-grown adult and could easily overwhelm her if I was pushed to it; I didn't have any reason to be intimidated! Even so, I could barely maintain eye contact.

When I was about to tell Eragon that his liege lord was creepy, Nasuada spoke. "You're smart, but you're still a child."

Already freaked out by her intensity, I responded with the first thing that came to mind, "No shit, Sherlock." The joys of televised classics.

Nasuada blinked, realizing she'd just been insulted, even if she didn't understand the meaning. Whoops. Hopefully she didn't ask me what it meant.

"Everyone tends to underestimate you because of your appearance, correct?"

"Obviously not, because you're probably overestimating me right now."

"Then correct me." Damn, that woman could read people. I knew she was manipulating me into showing my hand, but the way she said put it tugged at my ego and I _had_ to answer, if only to prove I was right rather than conceding I was wrong. Nasuada had absolute control over her own ego. I was envious.

I sent her a look that said I knew _exactly_ what she was doing, but answered anyways. "You obviously know more about me than I'm aware, through Brom, maybe Islanzadí, and possibly Eragon. You know I've been with the elves for nearly a year and assume that my standards align with theirs. In part, you are correct. Because I am part elf, I am faster and possibly stronger than most humans despite my size. When Brom visited Ellesméra, I fought against him on the sparring grounds there. I lost quite definitively because I have no experience in real combat. As for spellcasting, I am severely limited by the strength in my body. Without any assistance, any one of the Du Vrangr Gata could probably overwhelm me by sheer strength. I know more spells in the Ancient Language, I can access magic easier and faster, but by all other accounts I am much weaker. As a leader, you probably understand the difficulty in learning a new language and assume I learned so many languages in order to become a diplomat or liaison, however, I genuinely enjoy learning new languages and cultures, only learning them because I was curious, not for any practical reasons, as evidenced by the fact Eragon only learned the Ancient Language while in Ellesméra. Do you still think I'm as powerful as you assumed?"

"When did you realize that you were much closer to my age than your appearance suggests."

Okay, I was starting to idolize this woman now. Really. No one, not even Oromis, suspected I was much older mentally than physically. "In Ellesméra, shortly after Eragon arrived," I answered honestly.

She nodded. "And you haven't told anyone?"

"I told Folkvír."

"Who is that?"

"A horse." I felt my face heat up.

"Horses are quite the companions." A long silence followed. After a minute, I could no longer hold the eye contact and looked down, furious at myself. I was twenty-six! She couldn't be older than eighteen! I should have been the one subtly controlling her, not the other way around! "Do you trust me?" She asked softly.

I thought about it for a long time. I respected her, certainly. I admired her, to a fault. If she said to jump, I would ask how high. Did I trust her?

I knew she would protect her Varden at any cost, including heartlessly sacrificing me if need be. "I trust you to do what you believe is right."

"Wise answer." She pulled a slip of paper from underneath the platter and handed it to me. I took it gingerly and unfolded it. Written in the Ancient Language, I recognized Brom's handwriting, was an oath of fealty to Nasuada as leader of the Varden. "I plan on requiring all spellcasters aligning themselves with the Varden to take a similar oath to assure they work in the Vardens best interests. This is the oath I will require the council, my generals, and any guards I may have to take."

"This oath terminates should you dissolve the Varden or win the war against Galbatorix."

"I am aware."

"Why are you showing this to me?"

"I wish you to take this oath."

"Why?"

"I can recognize an asset when I see one. Your mastery of cultures and languages covers where mine will fail. You may downplay your skill, but according to Brom, you could easily defeat any human without the magic of dragons inside of them. As for the strength of your spellcasting, Brom tells me that you have enough strength at your disposal to hold off any non-Rider spellcaster long enough for help to arrive, or for me to escape to safety. I am inclined to believe his assessment of your skill. Alongside another certain individual, I believe you could make a powerful guard, but I dare not trust you without the oath."

I swallowed. This entire time, I had thought Oromis had been training me to fight alongside Eragon, but really, I had been trained to protect the leader of the Varden. I could have kicked myself. I had just been lecturing her about assumptions only to have my own slap me in the face.

"If you refuse the oath, you may join the Du Vrangr Gata or return to Du Weldenvarden."

Way to lay down the law, lady. Nasuada stood up.

"I'll give you a moment to make your decision. Come out into the pavilion when you have made it."

I nodded and she left. I let my head drop into my hands, rubbing my temples to push away the headache from the infinite number of implications my decision would have. I re-read the oath carefully, examining all the nuances. After a minute, I noticed a small implication in the phrasing that would split my loyalty between Nasuada and what was best for the Varden's goal. Whether I wanted to or not, saying the words would magically bind me to the cause of defeating Galbatorix. It was exceedingly clever, and there was no way it was included by accident. It was a powerful and dangerous oath, meaning that I wouldn't be able to knowingly allow her to act except in the best interests of that goal, and the oath would prompt me to be proactive in that approach.

I stood and marched towards the pavilion with a purpose. Inside, the Council of Elders, Brom, and Nasuada were seated around an oval table, at which Nasuada was at the head. There was a conspicuously empty place at the far end of the table for me to stand and the elders were looking at me with sour faces. Uncharacteristically gentleman-like, Brom stood and walked around the table to gesture at the empty place. Oh, he knew all about the extra clause in the oath. I walked forward, my chin held high, wishing I had my staff. When I was close enough, I used every ounce of the elvish strength and speed I had to punch the man in the nose. My fingers broke as his head snapped backwards and he fell on his butt. There were cries of outrage as the council shot to their feet.

I slammed the paper down on the table, holding my broken hand tightly against my chest. "I'll take the oath, but be advised that there is a very good chance I will die at its completion. Brom knew that when he wrote the oath."

"Why—" Nasuada began.

"It is impossible to lie in the Ancient Language, you probably already know that and the Ancient Language controls magic. The combination of those two aspects the Grey Folk placed on the language means that an oath uttered in the Ancient Language must be fulfilled. For example, if I swore to never say 'blue' in the Ancient Language, I would never be able to say the word again, whether I wanted to or not."

The council started to bluster at being lectured at by a child.

"Quiet!" Nasuada ordered. "Ella, please finish."

"This holds true for any oath, promise, or statement. There are conditions to it: the spirit of the statement is what is binding, not the grammar, otherwise a poorly constructed sentence could be disastrous. It's not a failsafe, however, it just prevents the language from taking advantage of anyone who uses it."

"What is the dangerous part of the oath?" Jörmundur asked, glancing a Brom distastefully, who had risen to his feet and was struggling to staunch his nosebleed without further damaging his broken nose.

"It can't be translated directly, but basically it splits my loyalty between Nasuada-elda and the quest to defeat Galbatorix." I crossed my arms and watched Nasuada carefully. She remained seated, studying me. "And you knew about it as well!" I snapped at her, my voice drowned by the arguing men.

"Silence!" Nasuada ordered, addressing the council. "Sit down and listen for once. I knew about the clause. Now, since you appointed me the leader of the Varden, I have been aware of the way you have been struggling to take control of me. I will not allow myself to be manipulated by you. At the same time, I understand that it is dangerous to have a single person leading this army. Believe what you will, but the oath will compel her to act in the best interests of this army. Now, I can see how difficult it must be for you to rely on a child to prevent the potential rise of another Galbatorix, but might I remind you that I am only a few years into adulthood, and Eragon is even younger. I didn't see any of you step up and lead after my father's death, even though each one of you was capable and willing. Don't tell me it was because you didn't want to place any of you above the others, because I know my father appointed Jörmundur his successor. Now, unless one of you are now willing to take that oath, the responsibility has fallen to Ella."

For a moment, I thought at least one of them would speak up. That was a bold move by Nasuada to challenge their bravery, and I honestly didn't expect it to work. One at a time, the council shook their heads. Finally, their gaze fell on Brom.

"I've already gotten rid of most of the Forsworn for you. I don't give a damn whether no one or everyone take the oath, Nasuada's leader now, I just does as she says. Sometimes." Nasuada raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine, I'm just along for the ride and to give a bit of advice when someone asks for it." Nasuada's eyebrow inched higher. "I'm here to tell you all when I think you're about to make a big mistake. I can tell when I'm not wanted." Brom left, annoyed and leaning heavily on his staff.

"Ella," Nasuada stated, standing up. I knew what that meant.

One of the council stood as well. "Let's make this formal at the very least."

I was pretty sure Nasuada really wanted to scowl at him, but since she had no legitimate objection, everyone moved to stand around the platform while Nasuada took her seat upon it. I knelt and recited the oath, raising my hands towards her as if offering a gift. I suppose I was, and a priceless one as well.

"I accept your fealty," Nasuada responded in the Ancient Language, taking my hands in hers. I felt the energy to complete the oath drawn out of me at an alarming rate, even as I struggled to control it. When it finally stopped, only Nasuada's grip on my hands was preventing me from slumping forward, incredibly weak. "It is done, she's alive," Nasuada told those assembled. "It's late and there are only days before we face Galbatorix's army. Go rest." As soon as they were gone, Nasuada lifted me into her arms and rang for her handmaiden. "Farica, go prepare a bed beside Elva's. Elva, is she hurt?"

"I don't feel anything, Lady Nightstalker," a woman's voice answered, patronizing.

"Are you willing to work with her?"

"Maybe she might just make this thrice-damned _blessing_ tolerable."

Nasuada didn't respond as I drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

When I woke, I found a pair of bright violet eyes hovering in the gloom beside me. I repressed my first instinct to scramble away. "Are you a cat or a person?" I asked, uncertain, turning onto my side to face the eyes.

"I can't feel you," a woman's voice answered, the same voice I heard before.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Why should I do that?"

"Okay, fine. I'm Ella. What's your name?"

"Elva."

"Is it spelled like mine, only with a 'v'?"

"I can't read."

"Oh."

"Where am I?"

"In Lady Nightstalker's private tent."

"Am I supposed to be here?"

"Yes."

"Um, who is Lady Nightstalker?"

"Nasuada."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"You have a spot glowing where your forehead should be."

"Very observant."

"What is it?"

"A curse."

"That's not good."

"Shall I quote you from earlier? 'No shit, Sherlock.'"

I snickered. "You have no idea what that means."

"Correct."

"Yay for me. Would it be rude of me to ask what curse?"

"You already know the answer."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

I thought for a long minute, putting the pieces together. "You're the baby Eragon tried to bless but messed it up."

"Correct."

"I'd say I was sorry, but I can't really do anything about it."

"No, you cannot."

"What time is it?"

"Just before dawn."

"I'm not waking anyone up, am I?"

"No, you are not."

"Okay."

"I can't feel you."

"I really have no idea what you're talking about, I'm not guarding my mind right now and I can feel you just fine."

"I know when someone's hurt or about to get hurt and this spell compels me to help them."

"That sounds awful. I mean, sometimes people have to get hurt to learn things and if you have to help them all the time then they'll never learn anything."

"You're not hurt."

"I don't think so."

The eyes looked away from me for a brief moment before lunging forward. Something small and sharp, a dagger most likely, glinted. I rolled away, throwing a small form off of me, just as the dagger nicked my shoulder.

"Naina!" I gasped. The walls of the tent immediately began to glow brightly, revealing a small, violet-eyed child running towards me with a dagger in hand. I tried to jerk out of the way, but the table from earlier caught the back of my knee, sending me falling backwards with a loud crash.

"Stop!" I heard Nasuada shout before I felt the dagger dig into my side, the child's weight thrusting the dagger all the way through my body. Elva leapt off me, but the damage had already been done and I was too weak from the evening before to heal it. From the amount of pain, I figured the dagger had severely damaged at least one major organ.

"I can't feel her!" Elva screamed as I lay gasping on the low table. I watched as Nasuada tied a cloak on over her chemise before kneeling beside me, moving one hand under my shoulders and the other under my knees. I quickly terminated my spell to prevent an unnecessary drain on myself, and severely weakened the ward that prevented specific people's magic from affecting me, namely Eragon and a handful of elves I didn't trust.

"Come on, let's get you to Eragon. Farica, run ahead and wake up Eragon—"

"No need, I'm already here, what happened?" Eragon demanded, landing hard on his knees opposite Nasuada. "Brisingr," he muttered and a small werelight appeared above my head as he pressed his hands against the wound.

"I don't know," Nasuada said. "I woke up when she fell. Elva, what happened, was anyone else here?"

"I can't feel her!" Elva screamed in Nasuada's face before breaking down crying. "I hurt her, I can't feel her."

Eragon stepped over the table and knelt down on my other side, the pressure never leaving. "She's going to be okay, but you have to help me, okay? Was the blade jagged or poisoned?"

Elva shook her head once.

"Was anyone else in here?"

She shook her head again and I closed my eyes.

"Which angle did the blade go in?—Just like that? Thank you. She's going to be okay, I promise. Nasuada, get Elva out of here, calm her down," Eragon ordered. "I don't know how, just do it. Saphira, get my pack with the scroll in it, not the scroll from Ebrithil, the ones with my notes on it, yes that one, bring it here, quickly. You, Nasuada's handmaiden, go find a physician, quickly, I have to be absolutely sure what I need to heal.—Where's Elva? Never mind, I need you to rinse off your hands and take the scroll from Saphira and hold it up for me.—It's upside down, good, hold it steady.—Okay, roll it up and give it back to Saphira, I just needed to be certain of something.—You're the physician?—I need to know what organs the blade damaged." The pressure lifted for a moment and unfamiliar hands touched around the wound. Someone gave a muffled response before Eragon started to speak in the Ancient Language. My breathing eased after some time and the pain receded.

"Eragon!" Nasuada cried.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just didn't expect that. I should have just sung the incision closed, but I panicked and had to use the spell instead, just give me a minute. Is Ella alright?"

"She's breathing normally, if a little bit hard."

I tried to tell him I was fine, but my body wouldn't respond.

"The spell worked, she's perfectly healed, but her body hasn't adjusted yet and it's still in shock, she's probably still somewhat conscious. It's just a matter of waiting."

"He's right," an unfamiliar voice affirmed. "Where did you learn, boy?"

"The elves taught me. Nasuada, is there a way to bring Elva back here? I spoke with Angela and she gave me quite a number of details, but why would—"

"Is she alright? Did you heal her? Why isn't she moving? Let me go!" Elva's frantic voice rang out.

"Calm down, Elva, she's going to be perfectly fine, she just needs some time to get better."

"She's the only person who doesn't hurt me and I hurt her!"

"Come here, Elva, and look," a small hand touched my forehead underneath Eragon's larger one before he pulled it over to my throat. "Feel that? She warm and her heart's still beating, she's fine—"

"But I hurt her?"

"She's almost better now."

I felt Elva jerk away from Eragon as I forced my body to sit up. Eragon and Nasuada grabbed each of my arms.

"Ella? Are you hurt anywhere else?" Eragon asked in the Ancient Language, pressing the back of his hand against my forehead. "You feel cold."

"I think I'm fine," I responded in kind, leaning against him. "Can I go see if my glider will work?"

Eragon laughed and put the rest of the room at ease. "What happened? Do you remember?"

"Do you remember how you told me about the baby who you botched the blessing?"

"I know it's her, she can feel when someone is hurt or about to be hurt."

"I know, but I don't think she can feel me. She can feel everyone else, just not me."

"Or the herbwoman I told you about."

"Why is that?"

"She cast some spell and won't share which."

"Oh. I think I know which one."

"Which?"

"If I tell you, you'll get mad at me."

"I—" The Ancient Language prevented Ergon from denying it.

"I thought so."

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm just a little tired, I'll be fine in a bit. Why didn't you use anyone's name?"

"Because then they would know who we're talking about—"

"You better not have been talking about me," a new voice interrupted.

"Angela," Eragon greeted politely. "I didn't know—"

"There's a lot you don't know. Now, what have I heard about someone Elva can't sense?" She switched languages so the rest of present company could be included.

"I can almost sense her right now!"

I slammed the ward back up to full strength.

"But it's gone now."

"I think I have some business with little Ella now," Angela darted forward and grabbed my arm, dragging me out of Nasuada's tent.

"You're really nice." I snapped at her.

"Sarcasm, nice, I haven't decided if I like you or not, but that's a step in the right direction."

I remained quite as she marched me across half the camp before shoving me into what I assumed to be her tent, filled with all sorts of miscellaneous. "Are you aware that most of these plants are poisonous?"

"Very."

"What are you going to do with it? Kill an army?"

"Something like that."

"But not this one?"

"There are quite a few individuals I would enjoy poisoning."

"For the record—" I stopped, realizing that Angela had been switching languages on me and I had been responding. I switched to the Ancient Language, with which I was most comfortable. "I haven't done anything against you, so you can't rightfully poison me."

"You're quite the little linguist."

"Yes."

"How did you stop Elva?"

"How did you?" I crossed my arms as a cat bounded out of the shadows to study me for a minute. "Are you a werecat?" I asked, automatically distracted.

 _I am._

"Cool. I'm Ella! Can I ask you some questions?"

 _No._

"Okay then. You're still cool."

The cat snorted. _Elves._

"You don't have to be rude if you just don't want to talk."

 _Children._

"I don't think I like you anymore."

The cat stalked off and Angela snapped her fingers in front of my face.

"How did you stop Elva?"

"How did you?"

Angela sighed. "Answer my question first."

"No."

"This is going nowhere."

"Right."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"I don't know who you are."

Angela went still for a moment before she erupted into laughter. "Do you plan on telling anyone how?"

"No, cause then everyone will know and that could be very bad."

"Well then, it seems I've overreacted."

"Yes."

"I'm sure you can find your way back."

"Not really."

"Out."

I scrambled out of her tent and looked for Eragon with my mind, asking for directions.

"See, you can find your way back," Angela called out of the tent as I set off and immediately tripped over her campfire.

I stuck my tongue out at her before I dashed off with a tiny werelight in my hand. The sun was about to rise when I reached the pavilion where Nasuada was discussing something with Eragon. As soon as I was within hearing range, the voices stopped and the guard standing outside to politely restrict access waved me in.

"The council is in no way happy about your appointment, Ella, but I believe it is for the best. Now, Farica has made you a uniform to wear, as well as the armor the elves gave you. Go to my tent and she will help you wash, dress in clean clothes, and arm yourself. Until then, Eragon will guard me."

"Yes, my lady," I responded and bowed. I should have curtsied but since I was technically a soldier now, it seemed more appropriate.

"We will discuss how your unique position will work when you return."

I nodded and left, noticing Elva sitting behind the curtain as a backdrop for Nasuada's chair.

In short order, and with a little bit of squabbling with Nasuada's handmaiden about my ability to dress myself, I reentered Nasuada's tent, my staff in hand.

"Good, the day is about to begin. I will be introducing Eragon and Saphira to many of the Lords who support the Varden. You will remain on my left side wherever I go. Should you sense someone lying to me, lean over and tell me. If need be, you will translate for me. Elva will remain behind the curtain. If something is wrong, she will come out and you will handle it as discreetly as possible. If your oath compels you to tell me something, do so as discreetly as possible. You will also take messages for me."

Thus began the most tedious day of my life.

Most of the day was spent parading Eragon in front of what seemed to be every noble on the continent. I kept my expression neutral the entire time, entertaining myself by falling in step with Nasuada whenever she moved.

More than one noble asked about my identity. Nasuada introduced me as her guard and at their skeptical looks, stated that I was trained by the elves specifically for my job, and asked if any of them would like to test themselves against me. One agreed and I immediately found myself facing off against a rather formidable looking son of an uppity noble.

I nearly gaped as he came at me like he was moving through water. I ducked under his first swing and stepped into his guard before slamming my staff against the back of his knees with a shock of energy a quarter of the strength I tested on Eragon. The son howled as I grabbed his hair and pressed my dagger against his throat and daring anyone to dispute my win before returning to my place beside Nasuada, unruffled.

"Does anyone else care to question my choice in protection?"

"My son is not Galbatorix."

I could see the gears in Nasuada's head turning and I had a feeling I would not like where they were headed.

"No, he is not," Nasuada conceded. "But I am also in the center of a military encampment." Her tone told everyone that the discussion was over and the day continued.

Although Eragon's face remained perfectly amicable throughout the day, the annoyance started to show through the cracks as the day wore on. As a guard, I unfortunately was not allowed to eat during the lunch with Surda's king, Orrin and struggled to tamp down my stomach's growling. I tested the food for poisons and spells, watching Eragon out of the corner of my eye and observing the room and surrounding area.

By the time lunch was over, I realized that Eragon was about to snap. I leaned over to whisper in Nasuada's ear. "Eragon is getting really frustrated and he's going to start speaking his mind very soon. From the air, you can get a much better perspective of Galbatorix's army than any scout or spy. I'm hungry too."

Nasuada nodded. "Is that Eragon's sister speaking or your oath?"

"A bit of both."

She nodded and turned to Orrin and his entourage. "I have just received word that there are many preparations for the coming battle that still need my personal attention. If you would be so kind, gentlemen, to excuse me."

"Come, Nasuada, there has been no messenger, how can you have received word?" I noted with a bit of disgust that Orrin was slightly tipsy.

"In addition to being a formidable soldier, my guard is an even more powerful magician—"

There was a minor disturbance a distance away from the pavilion that drew my attention away the budding argument.

"My Lady," I interrupted her softly so the rest of the assembled could not hear, my gaze unfocused as I monitored the situation closely. "There is a contingent of Urgals approaching from behind the main body of the Varden bearing a white flag."

Nasuada pulled me to the side. "Do you speak Urgal?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Do you know their culture?"

"Yes, Ma'am, very well."

Nasuada handed me a gold medallion. "Show this to whoever is in charge of the watchmen there and It will give you my authority, use it wisely. If they come to ally themselves with us like I suspect, accept."

"Yes, Ma'am." I immediately exchanged my staff for my glider and dashed out of the pavilion, snapping it open and leaping into the air on the first updraft I came across. The balance was slightly different with my armor and weapons, but I quickly adjusted and flew across the camp, landing between three unarmed Kull and a dozen archers behind at least fifty swordsmen. I folded my glider, all eyes on me and exchanged it for my staff.

A man with a captain's badge on his chest stepped forward. "Get out of the way, little girl." He snarled at me. I held up the medallion from Nasuada. He gestured me forward and examined it.

"I am here under the authority of Nasuada."

"How do I know you're not a lying little thief? What's your name little girl?"

"My name is Ella and I would appreciate it if you would withhold your insults unless they are legitimate and applicable. Now have you determined that this is Nasuada's medallion that grants the holder her authority in the Varden?"

"It is."

"Then kindly order your men to lower their weapons."

I could tell the man really wanted to throttle me and show me what he thought about taking orders from a little girl, but he apparently determined that the repercussions of such an action wouldn't be worth the satisfaction. With a motion, the soldiers reluctantly lowered their swords and released the tension in their bowstrings. It was a bit too much to ask them to put their weapons away and leave, so I placed my own in front of the men and approached the Kull unarmed, addressing him in the Urgal tongue.

"I am here by the command on my liege, Nasuada, leader of the Varden. You have come flying a white flag. Please state the purpose of your presence."

He appeared impressed by my fluency and responded in kind. "I am Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek Tribe and by the command of my Herndall, I have come to offer the assistance of myself and the fighting rams of my tribe in your fight against the Empire."

"Why?"

"The Shade Durza, under the command of the Empire's king, Galbatorix, bound my tribe though unholy means and forced us to fight with our enemy clans against our will. We wish to align ourselves against him."

"What do you expect in return?"

"I wish the opportunity to right the wrong Galbatorix did to our people, land for my people to live on as peacefully as we are able, and a promise that we will not be hunted to extinction should you win this campaign."

Right then, I knew I had no choice but to accept his assistance, damn the consequences, but I had one more question. "For as long as Urgals have been in this land, your kind has attacked and murdered. Why should we agree to your proposal when the odds say we will be attacked again?"

"You seem well-educated for your age, little one. Our blood runs thick with the thirst for combat. No signed paper will keep us in check for long, but I do not defend the actions of my kin. I wish to prevent our extinction. Perhaps we may find a solution to keep the peace between our races, perhaps not. There is no reasoning with Galbatorix in such matters, and should he win, my race has no hope."

"Then I agree to your proposal."

"Thank you, little one. I have a question for you. Is the Varden so desperate they are left with children to lead their army?"

"The Varden is facing a great foe, Nar Garzhvog, but we are not so desperate as to put children in place of our leadership. I am much older than I appear, a fact you would do well to remember."

"I have never met a human willing to learn our tongue, why have you bothered?"

Behind me, I felt the men becoming restless. "How much do you trust me, Nar Garzhvog?"

"I wasn't aware trust was a part of this alliance."

"How much would you trust me if I had ordered you, in the human tongue, to conduct this meeting in the center of our camp, in a language you did not natively speak, unarmed, and alone?"

He didn't respond, so I continued.

"How much do you trust me, in comparison, that I met you, unarmed, on reasonably neutral ground, a field of your choosing, spoke in your tongue, allowed your lack of arms to be by choice, with your warriors alongside you as witnesses, and my own witnesses remaining behind?"

I was quite proud of my bullshitting as the Kull threw back his head and roared. It was damn scary, even if it was a sign of respect. I heard the stretch of bowstrings behind me.

"Go back to your people, little one, but know, if the opportunity presents itself, I wish to face you in friendly combat to determine who is the stronger of us."

"I am unaware of that tradition."

He smiled. "Lady Nightstalker is not a great warrior; she is a great leader. You, little one, are her warrior, just as I am the warrior of my Herndall. I do not seek control of your tribe, I seek to test myself against a worthy opponent."

Damn. I must have _really_ impressed him. I nodded and we turned away from each other. I skipped back to the Varden and scolded them as I reclaimed my weapons. "Next time, I expect that you follow orders and keep your weapons lowered. It is a sign of aggression to point weapons at an Urgal, and by their code of honor, it is a sign of provocation, meaning that they are free to attack without punishment from their gods. I understand that I look like a little girl, but as I told the _war chief_ of the Urgals, I am much older than I appear. I studied, in depth, almost every culture in Alagaësia and learned their languages from the elves. Unless you can claim as much, I suggest you _follow orders_." At that, I snapped open my glider and leapt over their heads, muttering a spell that would quicken my departure. I reached for Eragon's mind and he greeted me sourly.

 _Galbatorix's army is much larger than the ground scouts reported and there is a tent nearly as large as Glaedr at the back which could mean Galbatorix is here._

 _What did Nasuada say about it?_

 _I am going to speak with her now. What errand did she send you on so urgently?_

 _There is a contingent of Urgals on our flank._

 _Does she need Saphira and I to go drive them off?_

 _NO! They're on our side—_

Saphira dropped out of the clouds above me, just as I landed outside Nasuada's pavilion and raced inside, Eragon following me closely.

"You made an alliance with _Urgals_?" Eragon demanded angrily. Luckily, only King Orrin and the council of elders were present.

I nodded once to her.

"I did," she answered evenly.

The room exploded indignantly. Nasuada glanced at me.

"Theyna!" I shouted over them. Even though I put no magic behind the words, the power of the Ancient Language silenced the room.

"Thank you, Ella. As I was saying, I have made an alliance with the Urgals. Do I need to remind you how powerful they are and how outnumbered we are by Galbatorix's army?"

"Galbatorix seeks to wipe out the Urgals just as he seeks to wipe out the elves, dwarves, the Varden, and now Surda. At the very least, we have a common enemy. If that was not enough to at least fight with them, know that they see Nasuada as the equivalent of a Herndall."

"They are murderers—" Eragon began.

"If anyone has cause to hate Urgals, I do. They orphaned me four years ago, on this day, if you cared to remember." I had Eragon's attention now. "I'm willing to let go of the past for a greater goal. Are you? You told me before that Galbatorix's army is larger than we thought. Do you really want to turn away such a potentially powerful ally because of a grudge?"

Nasuada placed a hand on my shoulder. "Ella, did your oath compel you to make this alliance and argue for it?"

I winced. "It did."

"Have it posted in every company that the Urgals are our allies anyone who attacks them will the punished as if they attacked a fellow member of the Varden."

Seeing as there would be no more debating the point, the council conceded.

"You are dismissed. We will attack the Empire the day after tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 9

With the tiny problem of the possible presence of Galbatorix, Nasuada was torn. She placed guards around Eragon and consented to more around herself, but she couldn't decide whether she should hold me back to assist Eragon in the case of Galbatorix's appearance or place me alongside herself, working with the Du Vrangr Gata. Since my oath gave me no compulsion either way, I sat in silence and played a hand game with Elva as Nasuada reviewed the battle plans late into the night. Only when she finally decided did she lie down and had Farica blow out the candles.

Elva and I pushed our mats together and quickly fell asleep. Early the next morning, Elva's shuddering woke me up. "Slytha," I murmured, forcing the poor girl back into sleep. The next moment, Nasuada laid a hand on my shoulder.

"Do you know what to do?"

I nodded and started to dress, slightly queasy. I felt like the last card in a Euchre hand, that never seemed to make much of a difference.

I sat on the edge of the near-empty camp, listening to the screams and shouts of men doomed to die as dust obscured the battle. Twice, I was sick to my stomach and spat bile out of dry heaves.

To my horror, a red dragon nearly the size of Saphira rose out of the gloom and roared. I tightened my grip on my glider and leapt into the air. I knew Murtagh had the help of several Eldunarí, but I had no way to separate them from him. I rose as quickly as I could above the cloud of arrows, but kept my distance from the battling dragons. When Eragon leapt off Saphira's back to wound Thorn, I saw my chance. Both dragons roared after the falling Rider. While Thorn and Murtagh were distracted, I dove after them and flew as close as I dared to Murtagh, a muttered spell cutting the bags free and a second spell attaching me to the glider and steering as my hands were quickly filled with what felt like a bag of stones. I dove towards the ground as Thorn roared and focused his attention on me. Big mistake for him. Saphira caught Eragon and both chased after Thorn with a fury, successfully distracting them long enough for me to fly far enough out of range. Apparently unaccustomed to fighting without the extra boost of strength, the pair immediately began to weaken under Saphira's barrage. Finally, they landed on a large plateau and the two riders crossed swords.

Murtaugh barely stood a chance. Eragon's exhaustion left him in the fight, but within the first few hits, Murtagh was on the defensive and struggling. I was awed by the power Eragon had gained. With a muttered spell to isolate the Eldunarí and prevent them from discovery, I quickly flew back towards the fight. Thorn didn't even see me coming. I landed on his neck and jammed my staff between a gap in the scales, shoving as much energy as I dared into my staff as a distraction. Thorn howled before both went rigid, Eragon and Saphira gaining access to their minds.

The blade fell from his fingers as Eragon started to chant in the Ancient Language, dismantling Murtaugh's wards. Clutching his head, Murtaugh dropped to his knees.

"Please kill me," Murtaugh begged.

Eragon placed the point of Za'roc against Murtaugh's neck.

"He knows my true name, he forced me to swear fealty to him in the Ancient Language—" He broke off as Thorn continued to howl, not in pain, but for his Rider.

"Ella, go back to the Varden and tell Nasuada that the new Rider is Murtaugh and tell her that I won't be back for awhile. Tell her that, under no circumstances other than the appearance of Galbatorix himself is she to allow or attempt contact through anyone other than you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Eragon."

I pulled the staff out from the gap in Thorn's scales, snapped open my glider, and flew off the plateau. I intended to head straight for Nasuada, but the sight of the Twins slaughtering two of the Du Vrangr Gata made me stop and land in front of them.

"What does a little girl think she can do?"

"Do you think you could stand a chance against an elvish spellcaster?"

The Twins paled slightly.

"I didn't think so."

They battered against my mental shields, but their minds were less trained than my own. They couldn't split their attention enough ways to attack me, defend against the Du Vrangr Gata, and pay attention to their surroundings. Roran rose behind them and bashed in both their heads. If they were the great of the human magicians, I was suddenly much more confident in my own abilities.

I waved to Roran. "I have something important to do, see you later!"

"Ella!" My adopted cousin scolded, but I was already on my glider and flying away.

I flew over the battle, searching for Nasuada. It didn't take me long to find her giving orders from her horse, Battle-Storm. I landed in front of her. "Eragon defeated the new Rider, Murtaugh. Galbatorix forced him to swear fealty in the Ancient language, invoking his true name. since we don't have the resources to hold a dragon and Rider captive, he is taking Murtaugh away from the Varden to attempt to change his true name, thus releasing him from his vows."

"Go stop him, Ella! We can't afford—"

"My lady, you can't stop him. Murtaugh was a friend and if he succeeds, we will have a second Rider."

"If he fails—"

"Murtaugh and his dragon will be dead and Eragon will return."

Nasuada wasn't happy, but she knew the situation was out of her control.

"You may have Eragon's allegiance, but he is still the Head of the Riders and it is his and Saphira's duty to do what he can for Murtaugh."

She sighed. "Do what you can for the rest of the battle."

I nodded and flew off to find Roran.

"Ella! What are you doing here? You should be back in Surda with the women and children!"

I ignored him and spun my staff as fast as I could before stepping alongside Roran in the thickest of the fighting. I took down three soldiers before I leapt over Roran's head and saving him from getting gutted. "Should have told me that before I spent nearly a year with the elves being taught by their best."

"Still as stubborn as a mule, Ella."

We settled into silence, fighting alongside the other and decimating the army. After a moment, I felt a sorcerer start attacking my mind. I attacked back with twice the strength, quickly breaking through his defenses with a trick I learned from Vanir. When I realized it was a member of the Du Vrangr Gata, I stopped and eased his bent pride at getting whipped by a little girl with the knowledge that I was trained by the elves and praising his valiant attempt. I told him to be a bit more careful when choosing his targets now that there wasn't a clear line between the two armies. As an afterthought, a gave a bit of advice to not attack magicians physically fighting because he would be severely outmatched just as I took down two soldiers three times my size with a handful of well-placed strikes they had no hope of blocking.

I winced as a magician turned their crosshairs towards me and Roran. I quickly set the magician to whose mind I was still linked on the attacker and forced Roran to fall back.

"What's wrong, Ella?"

"Magician," I spat out. "You don't have any wards." With a murmured word, I shifted my wards onto Roran, who shuddered as they settled over him. "Sorry, but I have to stay real close to you now."

"I am perfectly fine with that."

"Wait, can I stand on your shoulders and shoot?"

Before he answered, I started pulling off my shoes, shoving my glider and staff into his left hand and reaching up for him to help me up. When he switched to help me up with his left, I knew something was wrong.

"Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You always pick me up with your other hand."

"It's just an old injury."

I grabbed my shoes and pulled Roran into the ranks of the Varden. "Let me see."

"Ella—" he tried to placate.

"If you can't pick me up, you can't fight."

"I just can't lift my arm very well, that's all—"

"I can fix it!"

"Ella, Gertrude already—"

"Gertrude can't use magic."

Roran sighed and slipped his shirt over his shoulder so I could see the scar.

I recited an abbreviated version of the spell to heal. It would only reconnect the severed muscles but I could fix the rest after the battle to save time and avoid exhausting myself.

"That itches!" He protested.

"You're a grown up. I don't think you need to be complaining about a little itch."

"That was more than a little itch."

"Pick me up now, I'm going General hunting."

"Ella—"

"Stop it. No one else has an elvish bow except Eragon and he had to go."

Roran lifted me up and I stood on his shoulders just like I would when we had to haul hay into the loft of the barn, except Eragon wasn't there to hand up the hay.

"Okay, I just need you to hold real still, I promise I won't fall. Lean on my staff if you have to but don't break my glider."

I pulled out my bow, which I had strung just before entering the fight, and nocked an arrow, scanning Galbatorix's army for the distinctive helms of the leaders. When I found one, I took a deep breath and let the arrow fly through their eye. Elvish bows rocked.

After I took down the second general, I realized that the archers of the opposing army were taking aim at me. I shot one last arrow towards the man in charge of the archer unit and caught the arrows just before they struck the men around me hiding behind their shields. With a flick of my wrist, the arrows were shooting back at the enemy with twice the velocity. A loud screech rising from the back of Galbatorix's army nearly made my heart stop and the burning air suddenly felt cold. It had an even worse effect on the people around me. Everyone stopped fighting and looked towards the two Lethrblaka rising from Galbatorix's army. I felt utterly terrified, but I was the only one who could move.

Roran swore underneath me and I could feel him about to collapse. I remembered a lesson from Oromis saying that their breath had paralytic properties which were especially powerful against humans. I leapt down, attaching my glider to my back with magic, hung my bow on Roran's shoulder and snatched a sword from a fallen soldier. I was the only person capable of fighting the Ra'zac, now that Eragon was gone, and I wasn't sure of myself. My hands trembled as I caught an updraft of air and leapt into the sky.

Out of the corner of my eye, I say Arya pick up my bow. I breathed a sigh of relief. All I had to do was harry the Lethrblaka as close to the ground as I could and she could take care of the rest. The Ra'zac screamed and I found it hard to concentrate. I didn't dare attempt to attack their minds when I had no idea what the outcome would be.

As a result, I was almost skewered on one of their beaks. I swerved out of the way just in time. I might have been no match for Saphira in the air, but the Lethrblaka were much jerkier in flight and seemed to struggle in flight.

Arya started to rattle out spells in the Ancient Language beneath me and I felt the air currents turn in my favor. Cool. I might not have the strength to do that, but Arya obviously did. With her help, I became much more agile than the Lethrblaka, if not as deadly. The glider stuck to my back and legs with magic so I had full use of both my arms.

Unfortunately, I found out that the Leathrblaka could fly with damaged wings. I didn't dare test the theory out on myself. As my strength ebbed to dangerously low levels, I pinned everything on a final gamble. Using all of Arya's assistance, I shot upwards, just above the Ra'zac's heads, and cleaved one from shoulder to hip with the blade and folded my glider to land on the Lethrblaka's back. The other two turned towards me, but I hacked at the muscle of the Leathrblaka's opposite wing, forcing the creature to tumble and turned the other's attack on me into a desperate attempt at salvation. I leapt off the Leathrblaka's back and onto its wing, sending both creatures tumbling just close enough to the ground for Arya to grab its claw and swing up. Score. The Ra'zac tried to attack her, but it lost its head for the effort, alongside its wounded parent. The last Leathrblaka managed to throw her off and fled.

We found ourselves, separated, in the center of Galbatorix's army when the paralysis on the humans lifted. I quickly stripped the glider mechanism off of my oak staff, breaking it in my haste, and used a tiny bit of power I had stored in the gem around my neck to prevent the swords I was about to encounter from damaging the staff. As the soldiers turned towards me to attack, I began to spin the staff defensively. Four magicians began to attack my mind. I realized with horror that I had no wards whatsoever. Fortifying myself with a bit more energy from my gem, I counterattacked all four at the same time. Two fell within the first few seconds. The other two held out until I felt Arya join the attack. They fell a moment later, as well as the protections on the soldiers attacking us. With a single phrase from me, the entire regiment collapsed.

The Varden let out a large cheer. The battle was nearly over.

As we rejoined the ranks of the Varden, Nasuada rode up to us. "Report," she ordered.

"Two of the Ra'zac are dead as well as one Leathrblaka," I answered.

"While you were in the air, how did our troops appear?"

"I was a bit more occupied with Murtaugh, the Twins, and those infernal _creatures_ ," I spat out the last word, "To notice how we were faring overall. While I was with my cousin briefly, everyone seemed confident and hopeful."

Nasuada nodded and glanced at Arya who silently agreed. "Ella, go back to your cousin, I assume you left your staff, bow, and shoes there. After the battle, I want you back with me. Arya, I don't command you, but it would be extremely helpful if you would be there to make sure our army does not turn on the Urgals when the fighting is over."

Arya left without a word, as did I.

Before I left earshot, I heard Nasuada mutter, "Elves," exasperated.

Normally, I would love going barefoot. I did most of the time in Ellesméra, but on the battlefield, the ground hot and wet with blood, picking over dead bodies, and avoiding fallen weapons, I resoled never to take off my shoes again. When I reached the place where I left Roran, my staff was stuck straight into the ground, my bow hanging from it, and my shoes on either side. I used a bit of magic to clean my feet before putting on my shoes, tossing my bow across my back alongside my oak staff and picking up my staff.

Ready, if tired, I ran in the most obvious direction Roran would have gone, arriving just in time to leap over him and knock aside a large mace he had no way of escaping. While wielding the staff caused the same amount of exhaustion as using magic, it was a tiredness I could safely ignore, for the most part.

"I really don't like you fighting in a war, Ella," Roran told me as he yanked me backwards to avoid a strike I was going to block and counter.

"You really can't do anything about it," I countered.

We went back and forth for the remainder of the fight, until Roran concluded as we approached Nasuada's pavilion, "No, I can't do a damn thing about you being here right now, but I intend to do something."


	10. Chapter 10

When we reached the entrance, the guard waved me inside, eyeing Roran skeptically. Nasuada was sitting in her chair, weary.

"Lady Nasuada, this is my adopted cousin Roran Garrowsson," I introduced while she motioned me to take my appointed place on her left side. It took little prompting for Roran to relate the events since Carvahall. I winced, ashamed as the story started out with him and Garrow searching everywhere for us after we disappeared. The two had even taken a trip to Therinsford to see if anyone had seen us. By the time they returned, their house had been destroyed, along with half the village, but two black-cloaked creatures he now knew to be the Ra'zac. He then talked about how the Ra'zac had targeted him and Garrow because of their relation to Eragon, they had no idea I even existed, and ended up killing Garrow trying to get information. Katrina had come by to make sure Roran was fine and they tried to threaten her. Roran brushed over the details but he basically lost it and nearly killed the Ra'zac before they kidnapped Katrina and injured his arm. He then rallied the villagers in protest of the destruction of their property and the damage done to the people. Eventually, they marched towards Surda, took a boat from Terim, and landed on the shores of the river during the battle.

Nasuada listened without interruption.

Roran made his final request. "I will do anything to have my fiancée back, I'm asking for your help, Eragon's, or even Ella's if there's no other choice. I would do anything to have my Katrina returned to me."

"Do you speak for Carvahall?"

"If need be."

"Very well. The Varden has need of your strength and the individual skills of the rest of your village. I will see what I can do about your Katrina, but I am unsure whether we are capable of such a campaign in the near future."

"Ella and Arya defeated three of the Ra'zac, the only thing I need is a companion, supplies, and the location of their nest."

I discreetly nudged Nasuada. I knew where the Ra'zac lived, Oromis supervised me figuring it out by compiling all of Ellesméra's writings on them and cross-referencing the texts. I had even dug up a map of Helgrind that not even Oromis knew had existed. I kind-of wanted to go. I remembered that Eragon had helped Roran the first time, and had found Sloan, leading to quite a trek through Alagaësia on foot.

"Now that we are sure the Ra'zac have been severely crippled, now would be the most advantageous time to launch a counter-attack."

Nasuada leaned forward to escape my more insistent nudging, studying Roran carefully. My cousin met her gaze evenly. Finally, she made her decision. "I will see what I can do, but your quest may have to wait a few days for everything to settle down."

It was if something was nudging at the back of my mind like I had been nudging Nasuada. I tried to ignore it, but it only grew stronger. I felt myself go rigid as I looked at what I was being compelled to say.

"Speak, Ella."

Before, I had thought I felt the oath I took working, giving a little help and a bit of authority to what I wanted to say, what I felt was the right course of action. Now, it was compelling me to say words I abhorred. "The Varden can't risk—" I tried to lock my jaw shut, but the words continued anyways. "Sending anyone that deep into the Empire, not now, not right after we just captured Galbatorix's Rider, nearly exterminated the Ra'zac, which not even the Elves could do before Galbatorix rose to power, and won against his army. At this point, his arrogance will tell him Murtaugh wasn't strong enough and he chose poor generals to lead his army. If we show that we can get to Dras-Leona and rescue one of his prisoners, then it tips our hand and increases the chances that Galbatorix takes an active role in the war." I tried to turn and run, but Nasuada caught my wrist, forcing the rest of the words out while Roran's face paled as he realized what I was about to say, but not understanding why I was saying them. "Rescuing Katrina on an independent mission would result in more net loss than leaving her where she is and hoping she's still alive or hasn't been moved to Urû'baen—" I was crying even though I could finally force the awful words to stop.

Roran's jaw was working as if he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words past his teeth. His fists clenched at his side as I rubbed the tears out of my eyes. "What did you do to her?" Roran demanded of Nasuada.

"She consented to take a powerful oath in the Ancient Language. She knew exactly what she agreed to."

"She's just a little girl! There's no way she could understand what she was getting into! Where was Eragon when you forced her into this?"

Nasuada opened her mouth to respond, but Roran had turned to leave. I felt myself standing and aiming my bow at him. "Roran! Stop!"

He turned to look at me, eyes widening in horror.

"Please, I don't move," I begged him. "I can't knowingly let you go after Katrina, by force if necessary and I'll know if you lie to me. Please, Roran, don't make me shoot you."

"I can't just abandon her, Ella," Roran turned around.

"NO!" I screamed and jerked to the side, knocking the arrow of course just enough to avoid killing Roran.

I took a step forward, screaming my lungs out, but something collided with my back and my head snapped back. I saw the ground rushing up to meet me. Fortunately, I had a hard head and hitting the hard-packed dirt only dazed me. The next second I threw Elva off my back, nearly sending the little girl into the side of the pavilion, and ran for Roran. Angela appeared out of nowhere, catching me around the waist.

"Gánga!" She ordered. I struggled for a moment, but still weakened from the fighting, it was futile. Crying, I fled towards the only person I trusted and was unconnected to the events. Eragon. I grabbed the first horse I came across and dashed away, guiding the creature with my mind and wishing for Folkvír. It was halfway through the night before I started to calm down, and let the poor horse stop. I pushed a substantial amount of strength into the horse and sent him back to the Varden, continuing to run towards the Silverwood forest, the most likely place Eragon would have gone. Angela's spell must have been stronger than she thought because by the time I fully realized where I was, I had nearly run through the soles of my shoes and stood at the edge of the forest. With a deep breath, I plunged inside, still trying to scrub the tears off my face and ignoring the thorny underbrush I strode through.

It didn't take Eragon long to know I was there. He practically materialized in front of me. I ran straight into him, bouncing backwards. He caught my shoulders and knelt down in front of me.

"Ella? What happened? Why are you crying? What's wrong?"

I sobbed and he picked me up. I knew he was thinking the worst but I couldn't regain my composure enough to tell him what happened.

He carried me back to the small camp he made with Murtaugh. "What happened?" Murtaugh asked.

"I don't know," Eragon answered. "She's in hysterics, like when I first met her." He sat down.

"Galbatorix is going to call me back soon and I'll have no choice—"

"You won't be able to leave, trust me."

"I'm not inclined to trust anyone right now."

"No you're not, but you still can't leave."

"How? You can't just—"

"I can. The elves have discovered many things magic can do."

"You're not strong enough—"

"No, I'm not. You recited the oaths you took and I found a way around them and used a bit of magic while you were unconscious so you can't leave this wood until we are finished here."

"She's settled down."

"I think she's asleep, but let's refocus on what we were doing before."

"I'm not telling you my true name."

"I'm not asking you too. Do you remember my explanation on how to go about changing your true name?"

"Stop treating me like an imbecile!" Murtaugh hissed and I heard him shoot to his feet.

"Sit down." Eragon sounded so much like Brom it was scary.

Murtaugh sat.

"You'll only make this harder on yourself and Thorn if you keep fighting me."

"I'm compelled to—"

"No, you're not. If you were compelled to fight me at every turn, you would have lost significantly faster than you actually did."

"Quit—"

"Murtaugh!"

"It's not like you're the eldest—"

"Like it or not, I may be your younger half-brother, but I am the Leader of the Riders by default. I'm not trying to hurt or humiliate you, so please stop—"

"You're a fool."

Eragon didn't answer. I had a feeling they had gone through the same conversation multiple times before.

Murtaugh took a deep breath. "Where's Thorn?"

"Saphira took him out into the desert to work on the same thing we are here."

"Why do we—"

"Your true name changed when you became a Rider. At the same time, Galbatorix forced you into a situation where you had no choice but to meld your identity so closely with Thorn that both of you nearly became a single entity, just to survive and remain sane. Before you protest, yes, most Riders linked their identities with their dragons as closely as you do with Thorn, but not until after they've finished their training, and that is done by choice, under circumstances that don't cripple their minds. No dragon bonds so closely to their Rider until after they have matured and developed their own personality, which Thorn hasn't had the luxury to do."

"How—"

"I can think and reason, Murtaugh. I may not know your true name but I can figure out how closely it is linked with Thorn, just from what you have already told me about your bond. At this point, the two of you act as two halves of a circle." Eragon shifted me onto his shoulder and fidgeted with his hands for a moment. "This is a puzzle ring. There are many different aspects to it, but it comes together to make something whole. A Rider is linked to their dragon, just like the various parts of this puzzle ring, the two come together in just the right way to make a whole. They have similarities, but they still remain independent. Both you and Thorn need your own identity before Saphira will return.

"You're in contact with her?"

"You've never been taught to meditate, have you?"

"No."

"Very well, we'll do that now. Sit down on the ground and close your eyes. Don't give me that look, you don't really have a choice in this. I haven't given you any information Galbatorix can use or doesn't already know so you can trust me or go back to Urû'baen."

I figured trust was the lesser of two evils for Murtaugh. Eragon shifted to sit with him, the small fire in the center.

"Your goal is to relax and open your mind."

Murtaugh spluttered a protest.

"I'm not going to attack you. Close your eyes."

A silence followed.

"Good, now don't focus on any one thing, stop twitching, no one's going to hurt you."

"Easier said than done, you have the security of being faster than anyone who might want to harm you."

"Do you want to go back to Urû'baen?"

"No."

"Then try."

"Why don't you—"

"Listen, if changing your true name was so important to me, I would break into your head and forcibly change your true name myself, but that would make me no better than Galbatorix and despite how enticing everyone warns me that having someone completely under my control is, I find it abhorrent, wrong and uncomfortable. I don't understand why Galbatorix would do such a thing and I don't want to. You can try this, I mean actually try, not argue and distract me every step of the way, you can be out from under Galbatorix's thumb to fight with the Varden or flee across the sea. Or, you can continue this ritual until I have more important duties to attend to and leave you here to be called back to Galbatorix and face his wrath. _It makes little difference to me._ I know I can't win against Galbaorix, even if everyone's pinning their hope on me, what's one more enemy Rider?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not, now let's start from the beginning."

I started to doze off for real as Eragon restarted from the beginning, his voice low and patient, even as Murtaugh continue to snap back at him. Each repetition brought them a half step further towards their goal.

It took Murtaugh fourteen days to succeed, something Eragon seemed quite impressed with. Every evening, Eragon contacted Arya twice during that time, mostly to assure her everything was going smoothly and to request that she assure Nasuada of the same because he didn't dare attempt to contact her. During that time, I rebuilt my glider, using a few supplies I got while visiting a nearby fishing village and singing the wood I needed out of a young tree to improve the quality of the glider itself. Periodically, I scryed Katrina. She was always somewhere dark, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

After Eragon persuaded Murtaugh to share his old true name to determine if it still had any power, he asked if Murtaugh was ready to be reunited with Thorn. To Eragon's horror, Murtaugh didn't remember Thorn. After a series of questions that irritated Murtaugh, Eragon determined that Murtaugh had eradicated a handful of influential people from his memories, along with most of what he knew about being a Rider. He shared the information about Eldunarí with Eragon, who wisely decided to address the topic with Oromis before acting on it. Eragon and I determined that I had taken Eldunarí from Murtaugh and was thankful that I had hidden them, but Eragon decided he would bring them to Oromis at first opportunity to explain.

Anyone could see that Murtaugh was not the same person he used to be. He knew about Morzan, and the fact that the man was his father, but he had no memories of the man. The same was true for his swordsmanship tutor. Because of that, Murtaugh now only knew the basics of the sword. Many of his memories of Galbatorix had been eradicated, though not all.

I found myself liking Murtaugh. When Saphira returned with Thorn, we learned that the red dragon had erased nearly all of his memories within the first few days and Saphira, much to her annoyance, had spent the remaining time teaching Thorn to fly and communicate. Her usual eloquence was quite diminished as she expressed her annoyance to me and Eragon.

 _He was a half-grown dragon with Eragon's intelligence, I thought that was bad, and now he's a hatchling with the intelligence of a rock in the body of a full-grown dragon. The foolish creature even erased the experiences of previous dragons. I had to start from scratch! Do you know how frustrating it is to teach a dragon to fly? It should be instinctual!_

I thought it was hilarious. Eragon marched off offended. We joined him in contacting Islanzadí after our chuckles faded and Saphira assured me that Murtaugh and Thorn were not going anywhere anytime soon. Before we left, I took note of the fact that Murtaugh seemed incapable of guarding his mind.

When we arrived, we found Eragon getting chewed out by Islanzadí. She didn't even pause to exchanged greetings with me or Saphira. Instead, she included the dragon in her tirade.

"How foolish can you get? He is the son of _Morzan_ and is no doubt bonded to Galbatorix through magic. Saphira, you are the last free female dragon! How could you risk yourself in such a way!"

Saphira started a tirade back at Islanzadí that only Eragon and I could hear, but after a moment, Eragon put a stop to it.

"Alright!" He shouted. "Saphira, she can't hear you, so stop yelling in my head. Queen Islanzadí, I understand that you are upset with my choice of action, but there was no other feasible option."

"You had Murtaugh and his dragon _at your mercy_ , you should have killed them while you had the chance!"

"Kill what could possibly be Saphira's last chance to rebuild the race of dragons? Or should I have crippled them like Oromis and Glaedr so they couldn't harm us and simultaneously turn them into an enemy? The Varden doesn't have the resources to imprison a Rider and dragon, neither do the marching elves, and the dwarves have just lost their king! Should I have turned him over to the Urgals? Unless you can provide a better alternative, what I've done is worth more than anything we could've gotten out of any other option I thought of. Now, please let me explain why I am contacting you, because it is certainly not because I want to hear you scold me and Saphira one of the few times I will fully back one of my decisions and not yield to another's opinion."

Islanzadí nodded tersely.

"Murtaugh and Thorn have succeeded in changing their true names. They are no longer magically bound to Galbatorix."

"How do you know—"

Eragon ploughed over her interruption. "In the process, they eradicated nearly all knowledge and training Galbatorix gave them."

"Good riddance—"

"And now need to be trained as dragon and Rider."

"What are you—"

"Since I am quite busy fighting a war, I would like—"

"Absolutely not! I will not suffer the son of Morzan in Du Weldenvarden."

"He needs—"

"That bastard child will not set foot in the elves' domain as long as I am queen!"

I winced, realizing that the entire conversation had been in the Ancient Language and there would be no going back on her words.

"Why?" Eragon demanded.

"He—"

"You have absolutely no grounds to bar them from Oromis and Glaedr's tutelage! They are not the individuals they were two weeks ago!"

"While you are the leader of the Riders, I know I cannot prevent you from training Murtaugh and his dragon, but you will not, under any circumstances bring that traitor's son into Du Weldenvarden."

"I need to speak with Glaedr. Is there any way at all to contact them without a trip to Du Weldenvarden?"

"Not through magic. Send a messenger."

"I cannot. I believe the topic I have stumbled upon is an extremely well-guarded secret of the Riders."

"I am privy to many of them as queen, there is a chance I may be able to help."

"Oromis and Glaedr told me and Saphira all the Riders' secrets you, the leaders of the dwarves, and those of the Varden were aware of, he even told me of the ones Brom knew about. This one is not one of those."

"And what are the questions you wish to send Glaedr? I will have Bladgen deliver them himself."

Eragon hesitated, glancing at Saphira. "Tell him that we believe we have found the source of Galbatorix's power and if not, it is a resource Saphira and I must look into in order to combat him."

"That is quite a claim, Shadeslayer. I suppose Murtaugh told you about it."

"Will you deliver the message or must I find another way to do so?"

"I will send your message with Bladgen immediately, as I promised. Carry a mirror with you so Oromis and Glaedr may contact you if he so desires to leave the safety of Ellesméra."

"Good day to you, Queen Islanzadí," Eragon responded and quickly ended the connection.

"What crawled into her skivvies this morning?" I asked, lightening Eragon's mood.

"I don't know, but whatever fondness I held for her has withered."

"Luckily she didn't ban you by association."

"Hopefully Glaedr understands the message."

 _He will,_ Saphira answered confidently.

"You can't guarantee—"

 _He will._

We arrived back to where Murtaugh and Thorn were still absorbed in what to them was their first meeting. Murtaugh rubbed the crest of Thorn's eye, mesmerized. Eragon put a hand on Murtaugh's shoulder.

The elder flinched in surprise, but turned his head towards Eragon.

"I have to return to the Varden. You two have to make a choice. You may come with me and be trained while fighting with the Varden. We can use your help, or you may leave and go wherever you wish, except Du Weldenvarden."

"Why not there?"

"'Cause the elf queen is being a royal, narrow-minded, unforgiving bitch," I answered. Eragon slapped the back of my head. "She is!" I protested.

"She's still queen, technically your queen."

"But—"

"Ella."

"You're taking this Rider thing far too seriously."

Eragon rolled his eyes and turned back to Murtaugh. "Your decision?"

"Galbatorix has wronged me and Thorn, I cannot ignore the fact that he would enslave us both again in even worse torment. I know that I cannot hope to find peace and safety as long as he remains Alagaësia's tyrant. I will fight against him, but I will not bind myself to the Varden lest they rise up and become a second tyrant to enslave me and my own."

 _Wise words,_ Saphira commented.

I agreed softly.

"Nor will I devote myself to Nasuada as a commander. I am beholden to no one but Thorn."

"Nasuada will not allow you to fight with her unless she has some assurance that you will not flip sides at a critical point in time," I informed him quietly.

Murtaugh's gaze focused on Eragon. Somehow, Eragon and Murtaugh were able to read each other as if they had grown up together.

"Why me?"

"You dislike and avoid everything Galbatorix stands for. You will not betray that, no matter how strong the temptation, you fear the power."

Eragon's gaze turned stony, just like it always did when someone was about to point out his failures.

Murtaugh switched to the Ancient Language, his words not quite confident or entirely grammatically correct, with Thorn's voice simultaneously ringing through our heads, "I offer you, Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales my fealty as the first member of the new order of Riders you will create. I have nothing else but that promise, little skill and even less knowledge, but I ask that you take it."

 _We accept,_ Saphira answered. I got the impression that she was having a private argument with Eragon.

"Ella, show Murtaugh how to put his saddle on Thorn and strap himself in before following Saphira and I back to the Varden. Wait outside the encampment until I call for you."

I gaped at him. "You're the Rider, not me! You should be—"

Eragon leapt onto Saphira's back and the two left.

"So how does this saddle go on?" Murtaugh asked.

"How am I supposed to know? Eragon always saddled Saphira before I arrived."

"I guess we'll figure it out."

It took us almost three hours to figure out how to put on and buckle the proper straps. Murtaugh did most of the work, climbing over Thorn to try and buckle the right straps. Finally, we succeeded and began the flew back to the Varden, to land just out of sight of the watchmen.

As soon as we landed, Saphira leapt up from among the tents and flew towards us. She landed and Nasuada slid down. I noticed Eragon was not present. As soon as Nasuada landed, Saphira left. He turned and reached up to help me down. I accepted his assistance and slid down. He caught me easily and set me gently on the ground, standing half in front of me, as if to protect me.

"I am Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden."

"Murtaugh. My dragon is Thorn."

"Eragon has informed me that you have successfully changed your true name. Is this true?"

"I am told that it is the fact, and that I did so through severe damage to my memories, I cannot honestly confirm it."

"Has Eragon explained to you who you were before?"

"In some detail, but I suspect he left out parts of the story."

"You would be correct."

Murtaugh nodded.

"Very well. From what Eragon has said, you are not up to your previous level of abilities, including but not limited to your swordplay, correct?"

"With all due respect, Lady Nasuada, I remember wielding the sword, I suspect my muscles remember the motion, but I have no memories of learning the weapon."

"Have you pledged yourself to the new order of Riders Eragon is to create?"

"I have pledged myself to Eragon as leader of the new order of Riders."

"Very well, what are your intentions with the Varden."

"I do not wish to name myself as part of the Varden, but I will fight for your cause for Eragon's sake."

"I remember meeting you in Farthen Dûr. You are not the same person."

"I am not."

"Very well. There are currently a number of things I must set to rights before I can accept you safely into our camp. Would you be adverse to remaining here until such time as I have sorted them out?"

Murtaugh nodded and took a seat beside Thorn's claw. Nasuada gestured for me to follow and I obeyed.


	11. Chapter 11

"Why didn't you return earlier?" Nasuada demanded when we were out of earshot.

I tried to be silent, but something itched at the back of my head, urging me to answer. "I was rebuilding my glider."

She wasn't happy with the answer but she didn't press. "Roran is fine, but it will take some time to recover."

"I can heal him."

"No, you were right and we cannot afford to send a rescue mission for Katrina. You can visit him, but don't exhaust yourself healing him."

"I'm sorry, I was supposed to be your bodyguard—"

"It's fine, Ella, Jörmundur founded the Nighthawks behind my back and they took over a few days ago. I'm perfectly safe with them and Elva, but I prefer to have you by my side to handle immediate confrontations and language barriers."

I nodded, but her grip on me didn't loosen.

"I don't trust Murtaugh."

"I do. He swore himself to Eragon—"

"And Saphira, which is why I don't trust him. If it was just Eragon, I would have some measure of control, but not Saphira."

"Why don't you trust Saphira?"

"She threatened to abduct Eragon on more than one occasion when she disagreed with my decisions."

"She is a dragon."

Nasuada sighed and loosened her hand. "The Wandering Tribes have requested and audience with me in a few hours. Elva told me that they will challenge me to the Trial of Long Knives and a small chance otherwise. Since whatever ward you have against her prevents her from anticipating your future, I would like you to do what you can to advert this."

I frowned and shrugged off her hand.

"What is it?"

"Accepting the Urgals was an unpopular decision and the Varden needs the help of the Wandering Tribes, if only for their gold. The trial will earn you the loyalty you need. I am certain you will win and I'm pretty sure Elva is as well."

"Do you know what the Trial of Long Knives is?"

"Yes, it's barbaric, but an effective way to gain the unswerving loyalty of your people, both the Varden and the Wandering Tribes. There is a little known by-law in the rules that says you can use magic to make the trial safer if the magic is used for both contestants. I can make sure neither you nor your challenger die and prevent any long-lasting damage, though your challenger may agree to heal the wounds completely afterwards."

"I see. You are fluent in their language?"

"Yes, my lady," I responded, switching languages. "Would you like to practice should the discussion not take place in the common tongue?"

"Very much so," She answered. "You are quite helpful."

"Thank you."

The remainder of the walk back, Nasuada told me about what had happened while I was gone.

When we stepped into Nasuada's private chambers, Elva threw herself at me with an ecstatic cry.

"Nice to see you too, Elva," I said, setting her down on the ground. Apparently, just being near me muted the constant pain Elva was in. With the help of Farica and myself, when I noticed Nasuada struggling, Nasuada changed into a plain, black dress without sleeves.

Holding hands with Elva, I followed Nasuada into the pavilion where Fadawar, leader of the Wandering Tribes, waited.

"I apologize for making you wait, an unexpected emergency came up," Nasuada apologized, taking her seat. I stayed behind the curtain with Elva, playing an odd game of cards Ella remembered from her time playing with a handful of girls from Carvahall, including Katrina.

"I challenge you, Nasuada, to the Trial of Long Knives."

That was my cue. I stood and glanced at Elva. She had reached out to grab me before yanking her hand back. "Do you want me to make you sleep through this?" I asked.

Elva looked torn. Her child-like mind was begging me to, but her pride was unwilling to accept any help.

"Slytha," I murmured, and motioned for Greta, who was never far away, to take care of her. I slipped out from behind the curtain and stepped up to stand at Nasuada's elbow and addressed Fadawar in his own language. "Due to the fact that both of you are extremely instrumental in this war, would you consent for me to perform a spell which will ensure that neither of you pass into the void should you collapse from blood loss?"

Fadawar glanced at Nasuada and they both nodded. Good, he wasn't an idiot. I murmured the spell and flinched as it took a greater toll from me than I expected.

"Ella, please notify Jörmundur, Eragon, King Orrin, Nar Garzvog, Arya, Brom, and Captain Garven to come and witness this trial and testament to the identity of the winner."

I closed my eyes and touched their minds. They slammed up shields, but I broke Orrin's and Garven's to deliver the message, with an assurance in the Ancient Language of who I was and that I meant no harm, while the others recognized me after a moment.

"They're coming," I reported.

"Who is this child?" Fadawar demanded.

"She has sworn herself to our cause and is here to ensure that neither I nor my successor take any action that would harm the Varden or our quest to defeat Galbatorix."

"What could she possibly do?"

"She is part elf, knows more languages than you and I combined, was educated in Ellesméra, and is a powerful magician. She can do a great deal."

"What is the meaning of sending that child to—" Orrin demanded as he entered the tent, closely followed by everyone else.

"Peace, Orrin, Fadawar has challenged me to the Trial of Long Knives."

Orrin spluttered angrily. "This is a fool's competition. I will not—"

Saphira's roar interrupted him. Eragon stumbled backwards into the tent through the flap made for Saphira's head, shoved in by her and obviously, at least to me, having an argument with her. The others probably thought he was just irritated. Saphira's head entered after him, the argument resolved.

He leaned against the side of her head, his face impassive. He said nothing, but the entire room could feel the power rolling off of him and ceased their argumentations.

Nasuada stood and stepped forward to face Fadawar. The drums started to beat and both contestants caught the knives. I moved to stand beside Eragon. _You aren't protesting like I thought you would,_ I noted, averting my eyes as Fadawar made the first cut. My stomach churned and I started breathing through my mouth. I could barely tolerate bloodshed on the Battle of the Burning Plains, and I was frankly too distracted trying to not die that I didn't really notice, but now I couldn't stomach it.

 _Saphira convinced me otherwise._

 _So that's what you were arguing about. What she do? Dangle you by your little toe?_

 _Something of the sort._

 _Saphira, what did you do convince him?_

A low rumble emanated from deep in her chest, outside of the hearing range of humans. I wisely changed the subject. The tempo increased and I moved back to my place by Nasuada's chair, watching Nasuada's back carefully and making sure her body obscured Fadawar. I knew I'd be sick if I watched one of them make a cut.

"Best that!" Nasuada finally snarled, still in the language of the tribes. A long minute later, Fadawar conceded and Nasuada sank back into her chair. Farica ran forward and began to bandage the cuts. I moved to help her but Nasuada caught my wrist. "Take care of Fadawar," she ordered. I nodded and hurried over to where two tribe members supported Fadawar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eragon leave alongside Saphira.

"Would you like me to heal your wounds?" I asked Fadawar.

"The Trial does not allow it," he answered.

"False, it allows magic as long as it is equal between the two contestants."

"No."

"At least let me make sure it heals quickly and without festering."

Fadawar hesitated before nodding.

I started to chant quickly in the Ancient Language, to the beat of the drums that had just quieted. The bleeding eased slightly and Fadawar's tribe mates automatically began to bandage his forearms, while I backed away holding my stomach. Trianna led me back to Nasuada and I repeated the spell, feeling faint. A moment later, Orrin, Trianna, and Jörmundur began to protest.

Before Nasuada needed to deal with it, I stepped between her and faced down three adults who could probably tear me apart if they had half a mind to work together.

"The Trial is over and you have witnessed her as the winner. Finish your duty and spread word of what has happened here." When they showed no indication of moving, I spun my staff once and held it parallel to the ground as if I was going to fight them off. "Please," I added firmly. They left and Arya followed, leaving Brom, smirking.

"That was a smart move my lady, if dangerous, I approve," he murmured.

"Brom, shut up," Nasuada ordered. I started to filter a steady stream of energy into Nasuada so she could function as was expected of her.

I sat down beside her, weakened, and ignored Nasuada's orders to Eragon to attend the coronation of the dwarves. I was proud when Eragon only clenched his jaw in distaste as she explained he would be travelling with a Kull.

They decided Murtaugh would remain hidden in the Silverwood forest until Eragon could return. Eragon bargained in a trip to Ellesméra, then the meeting was over along with the day.

(o)

A month passed as Eragon witnessed the coronation of the new dwarf king Orik, and travelled to Ellesméra. I remained behind the curtain alongside Elva and playing small games to pass the time. The elves sent to protect Eragon arrived a few days after his departure (I checked to see if they were legit instead of an unfortunate human) and I spent the early hours of the morning, before Nasuada rose, with them sparring, learning spells, or practicing defending my thoughts.

Every evening, without fail, I poured every scrap of my energy I could afford into the miniature Isidar Mithrim around my neck. I worried that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep without the ritual drain, but since the habit yielded more gain than harm, I ignored it. The amount of power accumulated in the gem could tear down the gates of Feinster if need be, not that I would have used it for that particular purpose.

As we drew close to Feinster, Saphira took off towards the Beor mountains to witness the coronation and repair the Isidar Mithrim. I longed to go with her, but something, I suspected my oath, kept me from even asking.

Eragon contacted me with a message to relay to Nasuada, that he was about to head for Ellesméra, and to delay the siege for as long as possible. I promised to deliver the message and he ended the spell.

A week and a half later, we marched on Feinster, while Eragon rushed back from Ellesméra.

Two days later, it was determined that the Varden could batter itself against the walls of the city all it wanted, but would accomplish nothing more than dying.

Nasuada came up with the outline of a plan to infiltrate the city and open the gates from the inside.

"They won't notice a child wandering around," I murmured when the topic came who could complete the mission.

"No, Ella," Jörmundur answered.

"Wait," Arya spoke up for the first time. "It could work. There are plenty of beggars in Feinster, especially after Galbatorix conscripted quite a number of men for this war."

"She's a child!"

"She's more capable than most of your soldiers."

"One of Blödhgarm's elves would make a stronger force in the walls."

"An elf would be recognized immediately. Ella looks human, we can scrounge up some rags for her to wear and she can swim into the city through one of the canals that provide the city's water. I'm certain she can fit."

There was a minute of silence. "I don't like placing a child on the front lines," Nasuada said. "She'll be barely armed."

"My lady, I fight with a staff, a broom will be just as deadly in my hands as my own staff is and a dagger is easily hidden."

I could tell Nasuada hated it, but she gave the order anyway. "Arya, take Ella and get her ready, show her the city's layout and which gate she needs to open."

Arya nodded and motioned for me to follow her. It didn't take long to reach her tent. As we stepped inside, I placed my glider, staff, bow, and dagger beside her cot. "I still don't trust you, little girl, you're holding back something big and I want to know what it is."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I squeaked back.

"You do. I won't grill you for it because you've sworn yourself to Nasuada." Arya knelt beside me and helped pull off the uniform tunic I wore over my habergeon. She folded it neatly and laid it on her cot before helping me out of my chainmail and placing that beside the tunic. I loosened the stiff leather vambraces around my forearms and pulled them off, then knelt to do the same for my greaves until I was left in the thin, lightweight, elvish underclothes. Arya laid the leather atop my tunic and produced what looked to be a pile of rags.

"You've already thought this through. You knew I would volunteer."

"Yes."

"You're good."

Arya didn't respond. I concluded that my reaction was unexpected. I quickly changed into the orphan clothes she gave me while she sat in the middle of the tent and unrolled a map of Feinster. At midnight, she brought me to the edge of the canal.


	12. Chapter 12

While the Battle of the Burning Plains took place just after the height of summer, over the course of the month and the travelling in a northerly direction, nights began to turn cold. Tonight was no exception. I had a small belt knife masquerading as a splint on my arm and stood nervously on the edge of the canal that led up to the city. The wind gusted from the ocean to my right and the city was a dark, uninviting shadow on my left.

"Are you clear on what you have to do?" Arya asked me, barely audible. Like most elves, she spoke in the Ancient language whenever she could.

"Yea," I breathed back.

"What are you waiting for?"

"It's cold and I'm going to have to swim against the current and I can't use magic or I'll get caught."

"You have six hours." Instead of a reassuring word, Arya put a hand on my back and shoved me into the freezing water. I barely held back a gasping scream as my head went under.

I immediately started to swim towards the city, shivering. I glanced back and saw Arya disappear into the darkness. Despite the dagger against my arm, I felt utterly bare as I grabbed ahold of the bars lowered into the canal. A full-grown man or elf would have no chance at slipping through them. As I looked at them, I realized that there was a chance I wouldn't be able to slip through. The bars were thick and barely five inches apart, crossed with slats of metal. Careful not to splash, I stuck my feet into one of the holes just underneath the water. I turned my hips sideways. If someone caught me now, I would be dead. Without my wards, or even my necklace, I could easily become a sitting duck.

My hips slid through the gate with only a small bit of trouble and I took a deep breath before sliding under the water. I managed to slide through up to my armpits when I realized that my shoulders, layered with muscle and my arms upraised were a fair bit wider than my hips. With a motion I knew I would regret later, I grabbed my left arm with my right hand and yanked as hard as I could. Twice. The third time, with a disgusting, muted squelch, my arm slipped out of its socket. A small bubble erupted from my mouth. I barely managed to hold back the moan of pain as I slid through the gate.

Still underwater, I slid my arm back into its proper place. Pressing my injured arm against my chest, I swam up the canal to get as close as I could to Feinster's main gate before I climbed out and kept to the shadows, carefully fixing my cover story in my head. My father died in the Battle of the Burning Plains and my brother was stationed to defend the main gate of the city. I was sent to tell him our mother had just had her baby, a boy.

I repeated the story in my head as I hurried towards the gate. Twice, I had to resist the urge to slam up defenses as two magicians touched my mind.

When they tried to immobilize me, I had no choice but to repel them. They started to attack back. A dozen soldiers ran towards me. In the distance, I heard the Varden begin their attack. Somehow, four hours had already elapsed. I cursed under my breath as a dozen soldiers raced appeared between me and the gates.

"Halt!" The lead one called out. "Show yourself."

I couldn't slip around them or the magicians would point them directly towards me. A dangerous plan cropped into my head even as I shoved the magicians back and started to batter against their defenses. I stepped out into the middle of the street and recalled everything I could from my high school theater class. I had to believe every word I said.

I trembled and cradled my arm as I stepped out from the shadows.

 _Kill her!_ One of the magicians screamed at the soldiers before I could stop him.

I took control of the magician.

"You're out after curfew little girl," the lead soldier stated.

"I'm really sorry sir, but I have to find my big brother!"

 _She's lying, you fool!_ The other magician screamed. I forced them both to commit suicide.

"Do you know the punishment for breaking curfew?"

"But this is really important! I have to tell my big brother something really important! He's at the front gates!" Well, that was somewhat true. Behind the Varden, I saw a large shape blotting out stars as it sped towards the city.

"What's his name?"

Shit. The game was up. I hadn't been here long enough to know the common versus uncommon names. "Eragon," I answered smugly. The soldiers blanched. A loud roar punctuated the end of my sentence. "Yes, _Rider_ Eragon." I leapt forward, drawing my dagger, and killed the lead soldier along with two others before any of them could shout an alarm. _Saphira, attack the machines on top of the wall and draw the soldiers there, no one can know I'm inside the city._ I killed four more soldiers before I finished my sentence.

 _Good hunting, älfa-dautr,_ Saphira responded as I killed another soldier. Two turned to flee and two advanced, swinging their swords.

 _Good hunting, Brightscales._ I responded while darting inside the shield of one of the soldiers then gutted him. As he fell, I threw the knife into the neck of the other, followed the blade and threw it at one of the retreating soldiers. It stuck in his skull and I bounded after the last soldier, leaving the others to bleed out in the street. I caught the last soldier before he could make it around the corner, breaking his neck. I turned back to slinking through the shadows towards the gate and grabbed my knife as I passed by the dead soldier. In two minutes, I made it to the gates. After a minute of fumbling in the dark, I watched a soldier returning from his rounds entering a door at the base of the wall. I slid in after him, not making a sound.

He trudged up the stairs and opened a second door. I stuck as close to him as I dared.

"Who's the little girl?" Someone inside asked as my eyes adjusted. I looked around and bit my lip. There was at least twenty soldiers backed into the room. I could take twelve by surprise, but twenty soldiers ready to fight was not among my capabilities. Especially when I suspected two of them to be magicians.

The soldier I followed whipped out his sword and pressed the tip against my collarbone.

"Who are you?"

"Letta. I live here in the city." I almost patted myself on the back, startled by my own genius. Nothing in the Ancient Language stopped me from saying easily misinterpreted words. With one word, I had frozen the entire room while everyone thought it was my name. The magicians attacked my mind and I responded with equal ferocity, taking my time in walking through the room methodically killing each of the soldiers. One of the magicians began a spell, but I was already inside his mind, even though he didn't realize it, and directed the spell against his partner before killing him.

I guess twenty soldiers weren't outside of my capabilities. A second later I remembered Arya warning me not to use magic. As I rushed to barricade the door, three other magicians from the surrounding area started attacking me. A minute later, I had killed them, but the effort left me gasping on my knees. I forced myself to the center of the room where a large wheel sported a game of cards. Gathering what strength I had left, I started to turn the wheel, thankful the gate was exceptionally well-built and didn't require more than one person to open. A cheer went up from the Varden as they entered the city. When the gate was halfway open, pounding erupted on the door along with shouts to close the gates. I stopped and ran towards the window, swinging myself over the edge. As promised, Blödhgarm was looking up at me, my glider in hand. It was a bit less than two hours before dawn. He muttered a spell and it shot up towards me. I caught it and snapped it open, leaping out over the Varden. A second cheer went up as the soldiers recognized me.

I dove towards Nasuada and landed in front of her, soothing her horse with a touch. Arya was with her.

"Alongside Eragon, they can handle the rest, thank you, Ella," Nasuada said. Arya grabbed my arm as I wobbled. "Did anyone see you?"

"Right, I'm really tired, and dirty, so that's my top priority right now. I killed anyone who saw me, but I briefly fought a trio of magicians before I got out."

"Good job, älfa-dautr," Arya said and handed me my necklace. I quickly put it on, drawing a small bit of energy to sustain myself. "How many magicians did you kill?"

"Four, I killed thirty soldiers as well."

Nasuada and Arya shared a dark look.

"What?"

"By everyone's standards, you are still a child."

"So?" For a minute, I was confused, then I remembered, I wasn't an adult anymore, I looked like an elementary kid. "Right. Does that mean I can go strike fear in the hearts of Galbatorix's soldiers now? Psychological warfare is extremely effective on conscripted men."

"You would scare our men as well."

Nar Garzvog thundered up to us and called out in a guttural voice. "Demand that your Herndall allow my tribe to join the fighting!" I winced, the Kull was too angry to speak in the common tongue. Not good.

I turned to Nasuada and relayed a polite version of his demand as Arya excused herself.

"The people of Feinster are not your enemy."

"They stand between the Urgals and Galbatorix!"

I relayed the message.

Nasuada fell silent, waiting for Nar Garzvog's anger to abate.

"Nar Garzvog, with all due respect, the relationship between humans and Urgals is rocky at best," I said instead.

He grunted.

"The Varden has barely accepted your presence, to fight alongside them in any but the most desperate of situations could end very badly."

He grunted again.

"Your rams want a fight, correct?"

He nodded then grunted for a third time.

"Then let's give them one. When we first met, you expressed a desire to test yourself against me."

He thought for a moment. "That will appease my rams. It will be a fight to be remembered in our stories."

I acknowledged his answer and turned to Nasuada to explain the agreement.

She wasn't happy, but when I assured her we both would survive the fight, she acquiesced. Nar Garzvog asked me to meet him at the entrance to the Urgal camp when I had changed into my normal clothes. He advised me to bring my weapons and armor before baring his throat respectfully and departing.

"This is a fool's errand," Nasuada grumbled to herself.

"It may be, but it will satisfy the Urgals."

"You assured me you would survive!"

"And I will, my lady. The Urgals want fighting, not necessarily death and destruction, though they are not adverse to the idea. Yes, many rams die in challenges, but fights to the death are not common. If you want to control their anger and lust for conflict, you have to let me do this."

Without waiting for her response, I returned to Arya's tent where my weapons and clothes were still lying where I left them.

I grimaced at the slime and mud from the canal caked onto my skin and clothes. Wishing for a bath, I cleaned up the best I could before hurrying towards the Urgal camp.

Nar Garzvog met me with a surprising number of Urgals at his back trembling with excitement.

I greeted him politely in his language, ignoring the skeptical looks from the Urgals. Much of his formal introduction went over my head.

I yelped as an Urgal lifted me onto his shoulder without warning and the excited cheering began.

As we marched towards the center of the camp, the Urgal explained the contest to me. I was allowed one weapon and no magic, not even wards. Other than that, almost anything went. It would not only be a battle of arms, but of mind as well. Apparently, among Urgals, the ability to touch another's mind was learned, but few bothered to try. I found it interesting and made a note to ask about it later along with a number of other questions that cropped up as the Urgal carried me through the camp. It was clean, much cleaner than the Varden's camp. Who knew Urgal were OCD? I wondered if Nasuada would let me camp with them instead. No horses meant no horse poop everywhere, true, but their tents were lined up in neat rows, unlike the Varden's, which were scattered all over the place. In the very center, there was a large ring taped off in which two rams were wrestling and the Urgals were cheering them on.

I stood on the Urgal's shoulder to better see the match, and he grabbed my ankle to help me balance, not that I needed it, but the thought was nice.

I found myself cheering with everyone else, my voice drowned out by the roars of the Urgals and Kull.

The match ended with a particularly vicious charge by the larger Urgal that threw the other out of the circle.

The winner bellowed his victory. Nar Garzvog pushed his way into the circle as the winner left. He shouted his challenge to me and his words were greeted with enthusiasm. I accepted and those gathered roared.

Nar Garzvog stated the rules of the challenge and asked me what weapon I would use. I held up my staff. The Urgals seemed skeptical as I exchanged the blades for weights, but they accepted. Nar Garzvog brandished his sword, which was as large as me, and donned a few scraps of armor. I took off my quiver and stuck my dagger and necklace(to which my wards were attached) inside before handing it to the nearest Urgal. He bared his throat in my direction. I returned the gesture and turned towards Nar Garzvog as he warmed up his arm. I spun my staff and tried to look intimidating. I probably looked like an idiot, but it made me less intimidated by the Kull five times my size.

"You are brave, Shadow Stalker," he said as we circled each other.

"Is it bravery if you have nothing to fear?"

He laughed.

"Why do you call me 'Shadow Stalker'?"

"Because you are the shadow of Lady Nightstalker."

I smiled and attacked. The first hit was mine. And the second, but neither did me any good. After that, I was fully on the defensive. Instead of blocking his strikes, I dodged them when I could and deflected them when I couldn't, trying to frustrate the Kull into making a mistake. He didn't. He continued to smile, even smirking. That irritated me. I lashed out with a furious flurry of attacks, all of which were blocked. Now angry, I committed my entire weight and strength towards his left knee. He stabbed his sword into the ground and jumped over my staff. I swore. In that split second, I had two choices: hang onto my staff and get caught by his arms, or let go and get out of the way. I chose to get out of the way. Even being part elf, there was no way I could escape his grip. I let go of my staff and ducked under his arms and rolled through his legs. I reached out to grab my staff as it bounced off his sword, but I missed and landed with my toes on the edge of the circle. I spun around and dashed back towards the Kull in an attempt to reacquire my staff, but I had to leap into the air to avoid his attack with my staff. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn't avoid his sword. The blade struck me in the stomach. I barely had enough wits to hang on, lest he throw me across camp.

Only then did I realize that I fell for the same trick I was trying to maneuver him into and swore colorfully. I grabbed the crossguard of his blade and threw myself towards his face. He jerked his head to the side, but I caught one of his horns and held on. He dropped my staff and tried to grab me instead. I stood on his broad shoulder, stepped onto his head, then the back of his hand, before diving for my weapon, wheezing. I attacked his mind like a mother dragon to cover how much damage his blade had done. It tore a part of my habergeon and gave me a nasty bruise across my abdomen, but thankfully it barely drew blood. The intensity of my attack faded as I regained my breath, allowing the Kull to attack back, physically and mentally. I returned to my earlier tactic of deflect and dodge.

After a minute, I realized I had underestimated the Kull's mental abilities. He was nearly as good as Oromis when Glaedr wasn't helping. While I had never managed to defeat the old Rider, I came quite close on multiple occasions and I could keep both him and Glaedr out of my head for a decent amount of time. Without warning, I swung my staff at the Kull. He barely managed to parry the physical attack and his concentration slipped for a brief moment, which I exploited, forcing him to freeze.

 _Ready to continue?_ I asked

He grunted and I released him and solidified my mental shields as he swung his sword. I winced at the loud clang of metal on metal. I could barely defend myself and when my foot caught on a loose ridge of churned earth, we both knew the match was over and grounded our weapons. Neither of us could help laughing as the Urgals started to bellow, outraged at the abrupt end of what was promising to be a very good fight. The outrage quickly turned to confusion as Nar Garzvog explained that had we faced each other in purely mental combat, I was the winner, but purely physical combat would leave him victorious. He didn't leave it there. With a handful of words, he spun it to mean that humans were leaving the Urgals as a final trump card, the final domino to knock down Galbatorix's reign.

Halfway through his final words, I received an urgent message from Trianna saying that the Du Vrangr Gata had just encountered a Shade who had already killed a quarter of the order and I was needed immediately as a spellcaster.

The Urgals fell silent as I started to tremble.

"What is wrong, Shadow Stalker?" Nar Garzvog asked.

"Another Shade," I responded quietly. If possible, the Urgals went even quieter. The sound of fighting from the city could be heard faintly. "I need to get to the city as fast as possible."

There was a long silence before one of the younger Urgals stepped forward. "I, Yarbog of the Bolvek Tribe, will take you, Shadow Stalker, to face this Shade."

I realized he was the one I handed my quiver to. He returned it and seconds later we were racing for the city. In the time it took for us to reach the gates, I strung my bow, put on my necklace, and replaced the weights on the ends of my staff with blades.

Had it been a particularly powerful Galbatorix lackey, I would have only been upset, but a Shade was a third party who destroyed for the sake of destruction. In short, I was pissed.

Yarbog waded through the flood of people, soldiers, both Varden and Empire, along with civilians, fleeing the city. In the center of the main street, the Shade stood, brandishing a giant bastard sword.

I screamed in anger as the Shade sliced a young boy from shoulder to hip as he shielded his younger sister then beheaded the girl who couldn't have been older than four. The Shade turned to me as I leapt off Yarbog's back. The Urgal jerked another fleeing child out of my way and shoved the boy into the arms of a passing soldier.

"A little girl seeks to challenge me?"

I cast my thoughts towards the keep and contacted one of Blodgharm's spellcasters, telling them there was a Shade and I needed Eragon's help. They told me it wasn't going to happen, because there was a Shade in the keep. I didn't think I could get angrier, but somehow I managed it. Yarbog started directing people towards the other gates with loud bellows and the Shade lunged for me. I spun my staff defensively and attacked him mentally. I was never more thankful for Rhunön's craftsmanship as I was in that next minute. Any other staff would have broken under the power behind the Shade's strikes.

"We are Raighur! We will not be denied!" The creature roared, nearly overwhelming me.

"You will not hurt these people!" I screamed back. Yarbog grabbed the back of my tunic and jerked me backwards to avoid a strike that would have taken my arm off. As the Shade focused his attention on Yarbog, I managed to isolate one of the spirits and detach it from the binding magic. In the process, Yarbog lost his arm. He stumbled backwards as the Shade turned back to me, screaming in anger.

I backed away, but the Shade knocked the staff out of my hands. I stiffened as thoughts that were not my own invaded my mind. I tried to slam up shields against the individual spearheading the assault but it was no use, it was like trying to stop the tide. I dropped to one knee, struggling to keep them out, but it was no use and it washed through every iota of my being

 _We won't harm you or your kin, little one,_ the entity said in the Ancient Language.

 _What are you?_ I demanded, but even my thoughts were fragile in comparison.

 _Open your eyes, little one and fight._

I had no choice but to obey. No longer focused inside of myself, I saw the Shade lunging to stab me through the heart as if in slow motion. I felt the pressure of the Shade attacking my mind, but the entity protected me.

 _Fight, little one,_ it repeated. I jerked to the side and realized that time around me had slowed and the air was so thick with magic I could barely breathe. I drew my dagger and ran forward, ducking under the Shade's defensive arm, and stabbed him through the heart. Time returned to normal and the Shade disintegrated in front of me. Something detonated behind me, striking me in the back and pinning me under rubble. _Well done, little one._ The entity started to pull away but I clung to it as tightly as my remaining strength would allow.

 _Wait! What are you? Why did you help me?_

I could feel the entity continue to pull away. I clung to it like I was drowning. I got the impression it was frightened of something.

 _Who are you?_

 _We are the watchers of Alagaësia._

 _Well, I'm sure you've done your job_ watching _so you can tell me what's going on and have some idea of how to dethrone the tyrant trying to eradicate the people you just saved from the Shade._

The entity let out the mental equivalent of a sigh. _We have watched and we will help when the time is right. We failed to stop Galbatorix and the Forsworn once and—_

It broke off as I recognized his words as an inadvertent hint. _You fought when they came to power._ I concluded. _The only ones who made a stand were the Riders and the elves. You're certainly not elves, their minds are quite unique, that means you're either human riders or their dragons or both—_

 _That's quite the leap in logic._

 _Quit being a teacher for a second, am I right?_

The entity didn't respond.

 _You don't have much of a choice but to help us. Galbatorix will eventually find you, whether it takes a thousand years or a million. Are you willing to wait until you're the last sane members of your kind to face Eragon, Saphira, Thorn, Murtaugh, Oromis, and Glaedr, possibly Galbatorix and Shruikan alone?_

 _We will help, but not yet._

 _When?_

 _When we are needed._

 _You are needed now, fighting, not hiding._

 _Dragons don't hide!_

 _So you're dragons,_ I said. _But somehow you can't fight._

 _Your brother is looking for you._

I was lying prostrate, unable to gather the strength to move away from the awful smell of blood covering the stones or out from underneath whatever was crushing me. _Please don't leave!_ I begged them, but they pulled away and I couldn't stop them.

"Ella!" Eragon cried out, my name echoed by the elves. I tried to cough, or reach out with my mind, but Eragon and all the elves still had their mental shields up and I couldn't fight through them.

"She's here somewhere, Eragon. We'll find her," Arya reassured him. She was standing barely five steps away.

"There was a _Shade_ here, Arya! Every second she could be farther away or a step closer to dying! The two of us, plus Saphira and the elves _barely survived_ Varaug. Half the Du Vragnr Gata are dead and have you not seen all of the dead soldiers and civilians?"

"Calm down, Eragon! She might be hiding and if you're angry and shouting, she won't come out."

"I should've brought her with me to Ellesméra and left her there."

"She's not helpless!"

" _I'm_ helpless against a Shade!"

"That's not true," Arya tried to protest, but Saphira snarled from a distance away and they returned to searching. Awareness of my surroundings gradually returned to me, but the voices were moving away from me.

"Firesword!" Nar Garzvog called out. I felt the stones shake beneath me as he pounded past. Eragon must have acknowledged him because he continued. "One of my rams brought Shadow Stalker here when she informed us of a Shade. A group of us tried to follow, but were caught up in protecting the civilians and could not follow."

"You let her—"

"Svarvok protected her," Nar Garzvog interrupted firmly. "She is weak, but she lives, we wish to find her."

"How do you know?" Eragon choked. Their voices started to move away. I tried to call out, but the dust choked me. I couldn't even cough, the weight on my back was crushing the air out of me. I tried to cast my mind in their direction, but he was already too far away. I concluded that it was something wooden crushing me, there was a large stone partially crushing my knee and any time I tried to move or take too large of a breath, pain shot through my body.

Night had fallen by the time anyone else passed close enough to touch my suffocating mind. It was a child, a girl, probably not much older than I appeared.

 _Please help me!_ I begged her.

"Where are you?" She asked into the air.

 _You can't help me but you can find someone who can. Will you help?_

"Yes!"

 _Good, what's your name?_

"Lamella."

 _Okay, Lamella, you need to do exactly what I tell you, okay? Can you do that?_

"Yes!"

 _Good. I need you to look underneath the rubble beside you, just like that, can you see me?_

"Yes."

 _Reach inside and take my necklace._ She obeyed and the knot of tension in my gut released slightly as she managed to take it and clutched the gem in her hand. _Good, hide it in your hands, just like that, good. Now, I need you to do something that will be really scary, but you won't get hurt, I promise, okay?_

"Okay."

 _Good, I need you to find the giant blue dragon that has been flying around. When you do, say this exactly: 'Brightscales, Ella needs help and she asked me to bring you and Argetlam to her.' Wait until a man appears and show him the necklace. He might ask you a question, but no matter what he says, answer: 'Argetlam, eka weohnata néit haina ono. Ella needs your help and asked me to bring you to her immediately.'_

The girl repeated everything perfectly.

 _Good job, give him my necklace and lead him back here. If he gets mad or seems mean, don't be scared, he won't hurt you, he is only really worried and frightened, okay?_

The girl nodded and dashed off.

I lay there and forced myself to remain patient, even though I knew I wouldn't have the strength to continue breathing the dusty, stale air for much longer. I wasn't sure how I made it through most of the day, but I hoped the girl managed to bring Eragon quickly.

What felt like hours later, someone lifted the weight off my back. I felt Saphira's claw nick my calf as she pulled the stone off my leg.

Eragon pressed his fingers against my neck. "Blodgharm! She's still alive!"

The addressed elf answered something I couldn't understand. Someone performed a spell that cleared the dust and debris from my lungs, making it easier for me to breathe. Blodgharm ran his fingers down either side of my spine then checked my skull for fractures. "Turn her onto her back," the elf ordered and multiple hands turned me over.

"She's used too much magic," Eragon concluded. A small fraction of energy flowed into me.

"That's enough, Eragon, there isn't much energy to go around," Arya interrupted. "She alive and as soon as she can properly rest, she'll recover just fine. Pick her up and we'll take her somewhere cleaner and safer than the streets. In the morning, when everyone is recovered, we can speed along her healing. She's not going to die."


	13. Chapter 13

Early the next morning, I forced myself to sit up, immediately waking Eragon, who slept with a hand around my waist.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, pinning my hair back in the barrettes.

My knee throbbed underneath the immobilizing bandages. "Awful," I answered, "But I think I'll be fine."

"Nar Garzvog said you went after a Shade; do you know what happened?"

"Mostly." I didn't elaborate.

"What happened to the Shade?"

"He's dead."

"Who killed him?"

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter, he's dead, I know that for certain. Before I tell you anything, I have to talk to Ebrithil."

"Ella—"

I ignored him. "Was Glaedr able to answer your question about the Eldunarí?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Tell me what happened with the Shade."

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't know exactly what happened. One moment, the Shade was about to kill me and something strange happened and the Shade was dead then I was stuck in the rubble for the day. As I said before, I need to talk to Ebrithil before I tell you anything."

Eragon accepted it and performed a spell to prevent anyone from overhearing.

"The Eldunarí are the heart of hearts of dragons. A dragon disgorges their Eldunarí and the person holding it can communicate with the dragon no matter how far apart they may be. The Eldunarí may survive, even if the dragon's body dies. Galbatorix has hundreds of them, that's how he was able to overpower the Riders. He's bent them all to his will now. You must have taken the Eldunarí from Murtaugh. I retrieved them, but there's no way we can help them, not with the resources we have, so I brought them to the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden and a handful of elves are working to help them. If we're lucky, one of the dragons might recover their sanity, but it's extremely unlikely."

"That's awful! Are there any others left?"

"Not outside of Galbatorix's control. Ebrithil spent years searching for even one that escaped. He couldn't find anything."

"So we have two barely-trained Riders and dragons, plus an ancient Rider who can barely perform magic and a crippled dragon against the might of hundreds of dragons and a madman."

Eragon nodded.

"I need to speak with Ebrithil."

"I'll go get a mirror—"

"No, I need to speak with him face-to-face."

"Ella—"

"Eragon, I have to. It could prove important."

"You just spent yesterday half-dead."

"Please, Eragon!"

"You'll have to talk to Nasuada. I spoke with Roran last night, he said you shot him after the Burning Plains, why? Is that the reason you were so upset when you met Murtaugh and I in the Silverwood Forest?"

"I didn't have a choice. He was going to try and rescue Katrina and it would've gotten the Varden in trouble."

Eragon made a funny noise. "What happened to Katrina?"

"A few months after we left, the Ra'zac went to Carvahall looking for us, sometime around when the traders came. They were after you, but they took Katrina for leverage. It didn't work."

The funny noise repeated. "I'm getting Roran." He left abruptly.

Well, he wouldn't be talking to me for awhile. With a bit of stretching, I snagged the scrying mirror from Eragon's bag lying open a few feet away. I muttered the incantation to scry Oromis. Their surroundings were unidentifiable, but Murtaugh was sitting Oromis's table with his back to me, reading, while Oromis looked through his collection of scrolls, also facing away.

"Why do you think the way someone is raised has such an effect on what kind of person they end up as?"

Murtaugh thought carefully, leaning his chair back on two legs. "True names for one and the ability to change them. If what kind of person someone will be is set in stone on the day they're conceived, then a true name couldn't change unless someone got themselves a new set of genes. The very fact that people have succeeded in changing shows that someone's immediate decisions and past experiences play a crucial role in who they are."

"I think that dragons are genetically inclined to be shamelessly egotistical. Brom also mentioned that Selena used to tap on her right collarbone with her left thumb whenever she was thinking hard about something. You, Eragon, Roran, and Garrow all do as well. Evidence says that it is genetic."

Both men turned around, startled.

"Sorry," I apologized sheepishly. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Ebrithil. Shur'tugal."

"Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr," Oromis replied.

After a second, Murtuagh flinched and responded appropriately.

"I don't believe that to be an effective counter-argument, Ella."

"Technically, I've graduated, so logical arguments are no longer required."

Oromis shook his head. "Is there a reason you have interrupted?"

"Yeah, something really, really strange happened while I was fighting a Shade and I was hoping you'd be able to explain it."

"You fought a Shade?" Murtaugh leapt to his feet. "Where were Eragon and the elves? How are you still alive? Eragon said he killed Durza, how is he back?"

Oromis laid a hand on Murtaugh's shoulder and the younger man settled down slightly.

"Well, Eragon was a tiny bit busy helping kill a different Shade, my confusion is about how I'm still alive, and Durza is dead. I faced a Shade named Raighur while Eragon and Arya faced Varaug."

"I don't want to hear this," Murtaugh muttered and turned to leave.

"Well, I didn't want to live through it, so suck it up," I retorted.

Murtaugh left anyways.

"Is there any way to make this absolutely secure?" I asked quietly. Oromis frowned.

"Why?"

"Because I have a theory on what happened and if I'm right then I don't think anyone else should know, not even Eragon, at least not yet."

"Where is he now?"

"Probably on his way to Helgrind."

"Do you remember Glaedr's no mountains-in-the-mist rule?"

"Yes. 'No dropping bombs during serious conversations.'"

"Kindly abide by it."

"Yes, Ebrithil. On to my question of security?"

"This spell is secure, we're in no more danger of eavesdroppers than if we were talking face-to-face."

I muttered the spell to prevent anyone else from listening and blocked off my mind from the bustling camp around me. "Guard your room and mind from listeners."

Oromis wasn't thrilled, but complied. "Start from the beginning," he prompted.

"So I was kinda making sure the Urgals didn't go crazy and start attacking the city when the Du Vrangr Gata contacted me and told me there was a Shade. By the time I got there, half the order and over a hundred soldiers and civilians had been killed."

"Eragon can explain this as well as I can, Ella. As awful as it sounds, that is normal behavior for a newly formed Shade."

"That's not the weird part. Let me finish. He knocked my staff out of my hands and was about to kill me when _something_ attacked my mind. It was more powerful than you and Glaedr combined, more powerful than the Shade, probably stronger than ten Shades, I didn't have a chance."

"This is worrisome. Do you think—"

"It wasn't Galbatorix. He has no reason to help me. Besides, the thing was kind. It spoke in the Ancient Language and made me use some spell that seemed to slow everything around me down, but it wasn't a spoken spell."

He sank into a chair, steepling his fingers. "I have never heard of such a spell, spoken or not. Do you have any idea how it was performed?"

"The spell isn't what I'm worried about. It's the fact that someone or something was able to completely overwhelm me and hold back a Shade and perform an impossible spell through me."

"Clearly the spell was possible if it was done."

"That's not my point! They got into my head without even trying. Even you and Glaedr need to try pretty hard to beat me and the Shade gained no ground mentally! But—"

"Calm down, Ella." Oromis ordered.

"No! I'm entitled to get worked up over this!"

"Ella!" Oromis snapped. In the distance, I heard Glaedr snarl.

I quieted. Behind me, someone entered the tent. I didn't bother looking behind me. They couldn't hear anything unless I allowed them and Oromis showed no sign of alarm.

"You mentioned a theory. What is it?"

"Eragon told me about the Eldunarí—"

Glaedr snarled again.

"Something exploded as the Shade died and knocked me unconscious, but I managed to talk to the someone or something. It all but admitted to being a dragon or dragons. Glaedr is over eight centuries old, but this entity felt even bigger, stronger, and older than him. I think it's either one _very_ old dragon or Eldunarí or multiple dragons or Eldunarí."

There was a long, thoughtful silence. "You were going to tell me your theory."

"I just did!"

"What are you talking about? You haven't said anything. Tell me your theory."

"Eragon told me about the Eldunarí—"

Glaedr snarled and I felt chills go down my back.

I repeated my theory.

Oromis studied me. I felt like I was about to get in trouble. "This isn't funny, Ella, if you have an idea, you need to share it."

"I have told you! Twice!"

"What has gotten into you, Ella? Why are you so upset? Arya mentioned you would be infiltrating the city during the siege. Did something go wrong?"

I stared at him, horrified and panicking.

"Ella? Are you alright?"

"You don't remember, do you? You don't remember anything I've said in the past twenty minutes."

"What are you talking about, Ella? You appeared on the mirror a minute ago screaming that you told me something."

I lost control of the spell in shock.

A full minute later, Oromis reappeared on the screen with Murtaugh beside him.

"Ella, what's going on? Why are you so upset?"

I forced the knot of panic away and responded carefully. "During the siege of Feinster, two Shades appeared. Eragon and the elves here faced one while I faced the other after it killed half of the Du Vrangr Gata and over a hundred soldiers and civilians. Something strange happened while I was fighting and a little while ago, I was talking to you and explained everything but now you don't remember any of it."

Oromis frowned. "Murtaugh, you haven't been in contact with me or Glaedr in the time she's mentioned, is she telling the truth?"

"I left almost a half hour ago because she was talking about a Shade. How am I supposed to know what you were talking about? You just called me in a half-panic because you thought Ella was in trouble when she lost control of a stupid spell."

"Barzûl!" Oromis growled and knocked over a chair in anger. The image wavered for a moment. That was the first time I had ever witnessed Oromis with anything but perfect patience and calm. Glaedr lost his temper often enough, but never Oromis. Murtaugh and I were shocked speechless. "I hate spells that mess with one's memory."

"What did I miss?" Murtaugh asked, gobsmacked.

"Do you remember telling Eragon about the Eldunarí?" I asked cautiously.

"Eldunarí? What is that?" Oromis and Murtaugh chorused.

"Ask Glaedr and Thorn," I murmured. This was not good.

For almost five minutes, Murtaugh and Oromis's eyes unfocused as they talked to their respective dragons. I glanced at the person who waited patiently behind me.

Nasuada still stood at the entrance of the tent, appearing rather displeased at the world in general. She was studying Oromis in the mirror. Since the elf never mentioned hiding his face from her, I figured it was fine. Nasuada gave me a look that indicated we needed to talk, rather urgently, but I figured my current problem was a tiny bit more important than whatever hers was.

Finally, Oromis refocused on me. "Glaedr says he has no knowledge of this Eldunarí."

I swore. Quite colorfully.

"Ella!" Oromis scolded, but is was more of a teacher's obligation than a genuine rebuke. He probably felt the same way.

"This isn't going anywhere," I snapped. "I'll contact you after I try and figure this out with Eragon. Hopefully whatever this memory thing is doing hasn't affected him as well."

"Very well. I trust you to do what's best."

"How much longer will Murtaugh's training take?"

"As long as possible, but he will be nearly at Eragon's intellectual and magical level in about a month. He is becoming quite proficient with the sword."

"Good, I hope to speak with you soon."

There was a mutual nod of acknowledgement before Murtaugh released the spell. I undid the privacy spell and lowered the barriers around my mind before turning to Nasuada.

"That was your teacher, correct?" She asked.

"Yes," I answered curtly.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes."

"Elaborate."

"It is technically a Rider secret. Unfortunately, someone cast a powerful memory spell on the subject so even if I tried to tell you, you wouldn't remember it."

"Does this have anything to do with Galbatorix?"

"I sincerely doubt it. Why are you here, my lady?" I asked bluntly.

She blinked at my trenchant tone. "The Urgals are calling you Shadeslayer as well as a large number of the Varden."

"I wielded the blade that killed the Shade Raighur."

If Nasuada had a reaction to my statement, she didn't show it. "You did well in appeasing the Urgals and fighting the Shade."

I shifted so I was facing her, my leg in a rather uncomfortable position. "But?"

"But why did you send Roran, who was about to become a general, and our only fully-trained Rider and dragon to the-gods-know-where without notifying anyone?"

"I didn't send them anywhere, not that either of them are very happy with me at the moment. To try and put your mind at rest, I think they are going to Helgrind to rescue Katrina."

"And why aren't you doing your utmost to stop them? Especially after your show not too long ago."

"Because I can't do anything about it. Since we've successfully captured Milan, Feinster, and besieged Aroughs remarkably quickly and are set to march on Belatona tomorrow, it would be stupid of him not to expect Eragon to be flying sorties against places that have the potential to demoralize his troops and people. Helgrind, where I believe Katrina to be kept, is now a feasible target."

"Eragon left Islanzadí's spellcasters behind."

"Well, he's as fond of guards as you are and this is personal for him, he doesn't want a voice of reason trying to dissuade him and Roran from rescuing a family member."

"That _boy_ ," Nasuada snapped to herself.

"With all due respect, he is a Rider and Brom's son to boot. The only person who can _really_ tell a dragon and Rider what to do is an older and more powerful dragon and Rider, even then it's not a certain endeavor, especially when that particular family is involved."

Nasuada nodded in acknowledgement. "I still have a bad feeling about this."

"It would be strange if you didn't."


	14. Chapter 14

Roran, Katrina, and Saphira returned three days later, reporting that the last of the Ra'zac was nowhere to be found. Katrina was deathly pale and weak, unable to stand for herself. Eragon had healed and strengthened her as well as he could, but the effect was quickly wearing off, especially since there was little protection from the elements while flying on Saphira's back.

To my amusement, if not anyone else's, Roran was rattling off obscenities directed towards Eragon. He knelt in front of me, holding Katrina tenderly against his chest, so I could heal her more effectively. To my further amusement, Saphira was a hundred percent more graphic on the tortures awaiting Eragon when he returned.

As soon as I declared that Katrina would be perfectly fine, given time and a gradual increase in food, Roran directed his displeasure at me. I endured a long rant of how, if he had any say in the matter, neither me, nor Katrina, nor Eragon would ever be allowed out of some fortress in Carvahall. It was a rather well-thought-out plan to make sure the people he cared about the most would never get hurt. Touching, even if I thought the three of us would go insane under the circumstances Roran considered ideal and safe.

Later, I was slightly miffed at the fact that Nasuada sent a separate physician to the tent Roran and Katrina would be sharing to make sure she actually would be fine. Sometimes, listening to Nasuada's conversations could be interesting, especially when she managed to pull off a particularly clever political move. When her audiences devolved into annoying arguments, it got rather tedious.

"How are you supposed to find a single man in the middle of the Empire?" Nasuada demanded of Arya.

"He's a Rider. The land recognizes him. One who knows how to listen can find him without much trouble."

"Arya, you may have the rest of the army fooled, but I know you are Islanzadí's daughter. If anything happened to you, the Varden could not risk your mother withdrawing her aid for a second time."

"So you place the aid of the elves over the safety of your only capable and truly loyal Rider?"

"Arya, that's not what I meant. Eragon will be fine."

"Can you promise that?"

"The Empire is too large for it to cover all the gaps. Those are gaps that Eragon can easily slip through. With another person, it would become more difficult. For you, it's too great a risk, especially considering the implications if something went wrong. You would have to set out unarmed and alone. I would rather send out one of the spellcasters, but they agree with me. Eragon is safer by himself."

"What if he encounters a mounted patrol? Elves are fast and strong, but by the time Eragon manages to take them down, he'll have drawn more attention than he can handle. Rider or not, his power is limited without Saphira."

"I'll go." I volunteered abruptly.

"What are you talking about, Ella? You're a little girl, there's no way you would escape notice."

"I can pull off an orphan boy. I'd be much less conspicuous than a woman travelling alone. I go, and there's no risk of repercussions from allies, plus, I have a better chance at finding him. I know him better and my mind is just as powerful, despite my age."

"Ella, it's too dangerous!" Both women protested.

"Give me three days. If I don't find him in three days, Arya will follow with two spellcasters. I can track him."

"What makes you so sure?" Arya retorted. Oops, I just stepped on her pride.

"The same way Elva doesn't know what hurts me."

Arya frowned. "Elva is completely unrelated to this!"

"Exactly."

The elf shook her head. "Lady Nasuada—"

"If a magician senses you using magic to change your appearance—" I started. A moment later, Arya grabbed me around the throat and slammed me to the ground.

"You are an arrogant little whelp!" She snarled in my face, in Dwarvish so no one else present could understand, and too quiet for anyone else to hear. "I won't stand for you driving us all to our graves by playing at being a god. Whatever you have on the future, you have no right to play with my life or anyone else's like a sick game of Runes, especially not Eragon's."

"I'm not playing with anyone's lives!" I retorted. "No more than you, or Nasuada, or Elva, or Islanzadí, or Orik, or Nar Garzvog. I'm no one's master, I don't play with or manipulate other people's thoughts and feelings. My master is the quest to destroy Galbatorix. As soon as this war is over, I'll be gone, you won't ever need think of me again. Let me do my duty."

The Nighthawks dragged Arya off of me.

"I'll be leaving now." I pointedly straightened my armor and tunic before marching out of the pavilion.

"What has gotten into you, Arya?"

"That _creature_ is not to be trusted," the elf snapped back before I left earshot.

In five minutes, I had changed into the rags I wore while infiltrating Feinster. It took me five more minutes to track down a warm and ragged enough cloak to not freeze during the night and another five minutes to detach my glider contraption and stuff it in an old pack along with a little bit of food. Eragon had left everything behind except Za'roc and his cloak. I shuffled through his things until I found the old belt knife he used to bring with him when he hunted in the Spine. I attached it to the strip of cloth I used as a belt, picked up my oak staff and set out.

I felt Arya watching me leave through the herds of cattle, the remainder of the camp none the wiser of my departure.

So do you remember how I said I was a lucky person? Well, my luck, miraculously, led me almost directly into Eragon, two-and-a-half days after I left the Varden. I was travelling along some deserted road when I spied a giant cloud of dust approaching me. I firmly placed the 'innocent boy with impossible dreams of becoming a bard' shield around my mind and waited. I suppressed a brief moment of panic when I realized that it was a contingent of Empire soldiers marching directly towards me. They passed, barely noticing me. I felt several magicians touch my mind, but they quickly dismissed me a no threat. One, a young man with more arrogance than sense, motioned me forward.

"Hey kid, want to see something cool?" He asked.

I played up my act and nodded, wide-eyed. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to the center of the group. Two oxen were pulling a seemingly empty cart. The man lifted me up, staff and all, and set me in the cart before jumping up behind me. The men leading the animals scowled, but didn't say anything. I barely managed to control my expression as I recognized Eragon lying there, bound, gagged, and beaten to a bloody pulp.

"Do you recognize him?"

I shook my head.

"He's the Rider that is fighting for the Varden. We lost half our men in the process, but we caught him in the end." The magician kicked Eragon in the stomach but he didn't respond. "You can touch him if you would like. That would be quite the story for you to tell, what do you think?"

"Letta," I responded. The people closest to me halted abruptly.

I killed the man an instant later. Before anyone could figure out what was going on, I slid my staff down the front of Eragon's shirt and down one of his pantlegs before hoisting the staff across my shoulders and running as fast as I could from the soldiers. I didn't release the spell until I was out of range of their arrows. They tried to pursue me, but they had no horses. With Eragon weighing me down, I was slowed to the speed of humans, but with several hastily muttered spells to make my path as smooth and me as sure-footed as a Feldûnost in its native land, I continued to slowly and steadily pull away from the small army chasing after me.

They chased me for most of the day, but eventually, they exhausted themselves. I continued to run until I could no longer see them on the horizon. When I was sure they were no longer following, I angled my run south towards Surda. I only made it about three more miles before I collapsed, exhausted and whimpering. In just a day, I had worn almost all the way through the soles of my shoes. I drew on the energy stored in my necklace to heal the worst of Eragon's wounds. I tucked us both against the base of a low grassy hill to cover for our lack of shelter. Eragon had taught me a neat trick to pull water from the ground, and I did so, quickly cleaning up my face and sating my thirst before murmuring the spell to contact Nasuada. To my annoyance, only Arya was present.

"Did you find him?" She demanded coldly.

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know. I had a run-in with part of Galbatorix's army and I lost track of where we were running. They managed to drug Eragon, but it'll wear off soon."

"How long until you return?"

"At least three days."

"Very well. I will pass on your message. It is nearly nightfall. Contact me or Nasuada at dawn."

I scowled and released the spell and the water. My back ached from the weight of the staff across my shoulders for half the day, my feet were raw and blistered, and I was utterly exhausted. Without thinking, I just curled against Eragon's chest and went to sleep.

(o)

Luckily, Eragon woke before anything could sneak up on us. He sat up, waking me, and seemed to hear something I couldn't. He clamped a hand over my mouth and leapt into a full sprint. I barely managed to hang on to my staff.

After a few minutes of running, he slowed enough to shift me onto his back before speeding back up.

"What's going on?" I asked in an undertone.

"Roran and I couldn't find the last Leathrblaka, and it somehow got itself another spawn."

"Not even you can outrun a Leathrblaka," I responded.

"I know, but we're only a day-and-a-half away from a point where Saphira should be able to fly out and help."

"How do you—"

"The stars. Brom taught me how to navigate by them."

"There's no way we're going to make it."

"I know, but we definitely need to get out of range of the town and the soldiers."

"What if we scry Saphira and she can fly out while we kill the Leathrblaka, get us, and fly back. We'd be home before evening."

"I lost Za'roc," Eragon rasped.

"I have my glider and I took your old belt knife you used to bring hunting. If you can do the thing Arya did to help my glider, I can defeat this Leatherblaka."

"Ella, you know I can't—"

"I'm not defenseless."

"I know that, but you're only nine, and extremely small for your age."

"I held my own against Nar Garzvog."

"Ella—"

"I can do this!"

"Let me take your glider—"

"It won't hold you, and there's no way you could learn to use it fast enough to fight in the air with it."

It was a long time before he responded. "I don't like it, but fine, I'll see what I can do to help you fly, but only once the Leathrblaka catches up."

I nodded and clung to Eragon with my legs while I attached the glider to my staff. It was more difficult than I thought it would be, but I managed. When I finished, I wrapped my arms around Eragon's neck, the glider trapped between us.

"How do you know it's the Ra'zac?"

"I just know, I can smell it."

I sniffed the air, but all I smelled was grass and earth. "I can't."

"Saphira," Eragon responded as if it answered everything. It didn't.

Eragon ran in silence for a few minutes. "Why?" I finally asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you stay behind? Saphira could have carried you back."

He didn't answer.

"Eragon, everyone was extremely worried about you."

"No, Ella, you and Saphira may have been worried about me, but everyone else wasn't. Nasuada was worried about what losing the only decently trained Rider would mean. Arya was worried everything she worked for would be for naught. Roran was worried about Katrina and feared I would be the only person who could heal her."

"That's not true!"

Eragon stopped and set me on my feet. "Ella, people aren't as nice as you are. They always have an ulterior motive."

"You don't really think that, Eragon. I know you don't."

"Tell me, why is Roran fighting with the Varden?"

"They destroyed Carvahall and captured Katrina."

"Why is Nasuada fighting?"

"The Varden is her family and she knows Galbatoix won't stop until he either destroys them or has them so thoroughly under his thumb that they won't be able to move."

"What about the Urgals?"

"Because the Empire will destroy them. The Varden's victory is their only hope of survival."

"The dwarves?"

"They are sick of living underground."

"They all have a reason. I could take Oromis, Glaedr, Murtaugh, Thorn, and everyone I cared about across the sea, build a new order of Riders, and come back in two or three hundred years and attack Galbatorix directly, with a much better chance of success."

"You're fighting because you can't see an injustice done and simply ignore it."

"What about the injustice done to me? Who fights on my behalf?"

"Brom," I answered with certainty. "Saphira. Me." The screech of the Leathrblaka punctuated the declaration.

I spun towards the sound in alarm to see the creature zipping towards us, a cloud of dust in its wake.

"Uh-oh," I commented descriptively. A moment later, Eragon scooped me up and dashed straight back towards the Varden as fast as he could. Behind us, I could hear men cackling madly. "We're not going to make it, Eragon," I told him.

"We don't have to make it; I just have to contact Saphira."

"We're not going to make it! We have to stop and scry her!"

"What if it's a trap to pull her this far away from the Varden?"

"At the very least she can grab us and fly right back."

"It's too much of a risk. I need you to promise me that you'll escape if you have the chance, whether I'm with you or not."

"I'm not going to abandon you, Eragon."

"Ella!"

"If anything, you should be the one leaving me behind! The Varden needs you far more than they need me."

The little I could see of Eragon's face twisted as if he was in pain.

"I won't ask you to do that, Eragon, we'll both get out of this, I promise. We'll kill the Letherblaka and outrun or defeat the soldiers, okay?"

"Is it even worth it?" Eragon jogged to a stop. I jumped off his back and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Eragon, you can't give up. If you give up, the Varden is finished."

"It's finished either way!"

"We still have hope! We will win this war!"

"How?"

"I don't know how, I just know that we will win."

"Ella, I'm not cut out to save everyone."

"You care, Eragon, that's all that matters."

"Saphira should have chosen someone else, she should have chosen you or Arya or one of the elves."

"So you'll just abandon her‽ Eragon, the bond between a dragon and rider isn't something that can be replaced, it's not a place me or Arya or one of the elves can fill. They're not going to kill you, Eragon. They'll kill me, but they'll never kill you. They'll take you to Galbatorix and he'll break your mind, control you, and through you he will control Saphira. You'll leave Murtagh and Thorn vulnerable, they're not strong enough to escape Galbatorix for long. You'll expose Ebrithil and Glaedr. Galbatorix will know our exact numbers, abilities, everything."

"Ella, just run, run and don't look back."

"No! Eragon, I swore an oath, in the Ancient Language, to the cause of defeating Galbatorix. It won't allow me to let you give up. It will force me to fight to defend you and they will kill me."

"Ella, walk away. Walk away and don't look back. Abandon me here. It will change your true name and release you from the oath. Please. I don't want to force you."

"No, Eragon, I will fight you if you try that, and you can't win a magician's duel against me without Saphira, it doesn't matter what happened at the Agaetí Blödhren. If you fight me, I can and I will ruthlessly overpower you and make you run back to the Varden and leave me here because you can make it if you're not carrying me."

Eragon took a deep, shuddering breath, then pulled me into a hug. "Okay, okay. I'll do what I can to help you against the Lethrblaka, then we'll outrun the men, okay?"

I nodded, then took a running leap into the air. Eragon was a good spellcaster, even if he didn't have the finesse Arya had, but he made up for it by creating powerful shields on my mind and predicting the Lethrblaka's moves. While I was whipping around the Leathrblaka and trying to knock it out of the air with nothing but my hands and a belt knife, I had to remind Eragon several times that I was not Saphira. I could not breathe fire on a whim.

The fight with the Lethrblaka was the longest fight of my life. I managed to shred the creature's wings, but Eragon wouldn't let me land on its back and try and get a better strike with my belt knife. I tried to harry it down so Eragon could jump up and catch hold, but it was too smart. Eragon had no idea where they came from, but during the fight, soldiers, laughing like madmen, appeared on the horizon. Aside from a few bruises, the Lethrblaka couldn't touch me. The appearance of the soldiers broke both mine and Eragon's concentration and I paid for it. When our heads turned towards the horizon, the Lethrblaka turned with unforeseen agility and one of its claws, I couldn't tell which, caught the underside of my arm and sliced through the muscle like a blade through water. I screamed as it rent a deep gash from my left armpit, across my chest to my opposite hip, then down my leg. I lost control of the glider, tumbling from the sky.

The gash wasn't particularly deep, if treated, it definitely wouldn't kill me, but the unexpectedness and the size of the wound incapacitated me and I dropped from the sky like a stone.

It hurt, it hurt so much, and what hurt the most was how quickly Eragon pulled himself from my mind. I knew why, he couldn't afford to be incapacitated as well and he and Saphira did the same thing when one was injured, but it made everything many times worse.

I saw Eragon running to catch me and the Lethrblaka shooting after him. When he turned and engaged the Lethrblaka, I knew he wouldn't be able to catch me. He didn't have time for a spell, I couldn't pull up the focus to save myself.

The creature didn't stand a chance. Eragon had a stick in his hand, a stick he'd been sharpening and strengthening during the fight. It wasn't finished, but it was strong enough. The second the Lethrblaka was close enough, he grabbed it. I struck the ground.

I watched my right hand hit the ground first, two of my fingers fractured at the impact, followed by my forearm, then my upper arm bent in ways they definitely were not supposed to bend. My head hit the ground and I bounced at least twice, the glider breaking alongside my bones. I wasn't high enough in the air to die in the fall, but I definitely wasn't low enough to avoid serious injury. I lay there in too much pain to move or make a sound.

I heard Eragon shouting curses. He knelt in front of me for a brief moment, but it was just to snatch the belt knife out of my hand before he was gone. The Lethrblaka landed several feet away from me and didn't move.

I didn't know how long I lay there, but eventually, I managed to gather the fortitude to roll onto my back. The glider was broken beneath me, but as far as I could tell, my staff was intact, not that I dared move to look. The heat of the sun helped clot the bleeding. By the time Eragon leaned over me, the sun had moved several inches across the sky.

When I blinked up at him, he swore. "I'm so sorry, Ella, I thought you were unconscious. I'm going to make you sleep, and when you wake up, it will all be over, okay? I promise."

I blinked up at him.

"Slytha."


	15. Chapter 15

Just like he promised, it was all over when I woke up. I didn't recognize the tent, lying on a thin mat and there were voices outside, women's voices.

My whole body ached, so I didn't move, and after a minute, someone ducked into the tent.

"Good morning, Ella, do you remember me?" She was dressed in a dull white, and lank, copper hair framed her face.

It took me a moment, but I eventually recognized Katrina. "Why—quiet?" I rasped.

"The army is attacking Belatona."

I closed my eyes.

"Ella? Are you okay?"

"Sore."

"Eragon said you'd feel better once you start moving. You've been unconscious for three days now."

I cleared my throat and when I spoke, my voice sounded much closer to normal. "Where's Nasuada?"

"She's assisting in the siege."

"Do they need another spellcaster?"

"Nasuada said she would send for you if they needed help. For now, you can rest."

"What happened?"

"Take it easy, Ella—"

"What happened while I was unconscious?"

"Eragon carried you back and told us about how he killed the Lethrblaka and about the men who cannot feel pain."

"Is he okay?"

"Eragon is fine, he came back with nothing but a few bruises. It took him a while, but he fixed you up and carried you back. He didn't leave your side until the siege started and brought you here so there would be someone around when you woke up."

"They're going to need a spellcaster, won't they?"

"Nasuada said most likely, especially after what happened with the Shade in Feinster. She fears that they will attempt to create another Shade, maybe two, since we nearly lost Feinster the first time. Eragon doesn't know Nasuada plans to call you to the field."

I nodded and pushed myself up with the arm that wasn't shattered, flexing the broken one cautiously. The pain was minimal and I realized I was completely naked underneath the blanket. A thick, ropy scar stretched from my left elbow down to my right knee. It didn't hurt. I poked at it until Katrina handed me my clothes. I dressed as quickly as I could, then Katrina helped with my armor and belting on my dagger and quiver.

"Promise me you'll be safe out there."

"As safe as I can be."

I grabbed my metal staff with the blades fixed on the ends, attached it to my quiver, along with my unstrung bow, then took off towards Saphira's roars.

I was just reaching the back of the army when the ground shook and one of the buildings collapsed. I hurried through the army and used a little bit of magic to scale the wall. I reached the top just as the most horrible sound echoed through the city. I watched Saphira fall and couldn't do anything.

By the time I made it to the keep, running across the rooftops, Eragon was slumped against Saphira's head, the elves singing closed a deadly injury. No one stopped me as I ran up to Eragon and hugged him tightly. After a moment, he hugged me back and crouched in front of me. His eyes were unfocused; still talking to Saphira, he doesn't see me. I didn't blame him.

"Roran is in the collapsed building, I need you to find a way to get to him, you're small enough to get in there and if you can't show him a way out, you can tell us what is safe to move, okay?"

I hugged him one more time before running off.

Eight hours. That's how long it took to dig Roran out.

By that point, Eragon had sent Saphira back to camp to recover, ignoring her protests. Everything seemed fine.

That evening, just after Nasuada finished setting up troops in the city, Eragon retired early. I was just about to duck into his tent and spread out my own bedroll when he emerged without warning, startling me.

"Sorry, Ella, Ebrithil is about to land in the clearing set aside for Saphira. Thorn and Murtaugh are with them."

I broadened the scope of my awareness and briefly brushed against their guarded minds.

Eragon swung me up onto his shoulders and headed towards them.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin, Ebrithil," Eragon and I greeted Oromis together, pressing two fingers to our lips in the traditional greeting.

"Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr, Eragon, älfa-dautr." I slid off Eragon's shoulders and dashed forward to hug Oromis, who carefully took my hand and examined the slightly crooked fingers.

Brom arrived behind us a moment later and repeated the greeting, his free hand on Eragon's back.

"I didn't expect you here," I noted as Thorn landed.

"I only came to ensure Murtaugh and Thorn made it here safely so you can prepare for the siege of Dras-Leona. What is Saphira doing?"

"She was injured during the battle and is recovering, I won't wake her until morning, maybe not even until later," Eragon answered. "Is Murtaugh a full rider now?"

"No, but I've taught him all I could in the time provided. Brom must finish his training, because I must assist the elves in their march and Islanzadí will not suffer his presence amidst her troops."

"Why can't Eragon train him?" I asked curiously as the man in question approached. Oromis finished his examination of my hand and arm.

"Eragon is going to be increasingly busy in the coming weeks and won't be able to give Murtaugh and Thorn the attention they need. Brom has the knowledge and few immediate responsibilities in the Varden."

Murtaugh greeted us with the traditional elvish greeting, glancing around warily, aware we were talking about him.

We responded appropriately, then Oromis stood, glancing between Eragon and Brom. "What happened to Ella?"

Eragon shifted guiltily, so I answered for him. "Eragon did something stupid and thought no one cared about him and then a Lethrblaka and a bunch of Empire soldiers crashed his pity party."

Silence fell and Eragon glared at me, while Oromis and Brom glared at him. Murtaugh just looked lost, then unnerved as I grinned at him. Then Oromis shifted his glare to Brom, who protested.

"He's definitely your son," Oromis commented. "I think it's only fair that we address those who have been waiting patiently." He gestured behind Brom and we all turned to see Nasuada standing with the king of Surda and Nar Garzhvog.

I clutched Oromis's hand and pulled him over to the leaders. "Ebrithil, this is Nasuada, leader of the Varden, Orrin, king of Surda." Oromis gave a small, respectful bow to them in turn, and they inclined their heads in response. "And Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek tribe and the Urgal contigent." Nar Garzhvog barely reacted as Oromis greeted him by baring his throat.

"I am Oromis Thrándurin, and this is Glaedr."

My hand began to sweat as I realized the reactions of the three leaders were extremely neutral.

"Shur'tugal, while we are grateful for your promised assistance in this war, I must ask why you have not revealed yourself before, and why you arrived with no warning," Nasuada demanded, her voice tight.

I tightened my grip on Oromis's hand when he balked at the insult and disrespect. It was subtle, and Brom slunk forward to stand at Nasuada's elbow. I doubted anyone else picked up on the change.

Glaedr's head suddenly separated the leaders from Oromis as the dragon stared them down with one giant eye. In the process, no one present could help but notice the stump of his foreleg. The gold dragon growled deep in his chest, the sound so low it was barely audible, then lumbered through the crowd towards Saphira. Everyone hurried out of his way, especially when Thorn scampered after Glaedr.

Eragon caught Murtaugh's arm before he could follow and the two half-brothers watched the stare-down in silence.

"Purple elephants," I stated, monotone.

Everyone looked at me incredulously but I had their attention.

I shrugged. "Master Oromis has a very good reason for staying out of the war, and Nasuada and Orrin have a very good reason for being suspicious about his absence. I don't know why Nar Garzvhog has a bone to pick, but I'm not worried about him losing his temper. If anyone gets into a fight, it could spell disaster for everyone. We now have three dragon riders where once we would have only had one, this is only a good thing. I'm tired and technically still injured, so can this please wait until morning?" I demanded.

Nasuada nodded. "Until morning."


	16. Chapter 16

Murtaugh went with Eragon to his tent, while Brom escorted Oromis to his own tent beside Eragon's and everyone else dispersed. I tagged along, clinging to Oromis's hand, too tired to chatter at him. We were halfway to the tent when Brom suddenly picked me up and set me on his hip, annoyed at my slower pace.

"Always impatient, Brom."

I laid my head on his shoulder and was fast asleep before we reached the tent. In the morning, I woke slightly disoriented and curled against Roran's side. The man was still fast asleep and I could see Katrina's outline on the other side of the tent.

I carefully wriggle out of Roran's arm where he holds me like a teddy bear, then tiptoe out of the tent. Unfortunately, Roran had left something lying across the tent between him and the door. In the early morning light, I didn't see it, nor was I looking for a trap. I tripped over something heavy and loud and crashed to the ground with a yelp. Okay, it wasn't loud at all, just few clinks of metal and a small squeak on my part when I landed, but everything seems like a thunderclap when you're trying not to wake someone.

Roran was awake in an instant, swinging a hammer from out of nowhere just as I regained my feet. I duck underneath the swing. "It's me, Roran, it's Ella." He stops attacking in an instant, and grabs me, checking me for injuries. "I'm fine, Roran," I protest as he manhandles me. "I was just going to get a drink and tripped, promise."

Somehow, Katrina didn't wake up in the commotion.

Instead of making me go back to sleep, Roran asked if I would walk with him around camp until the sun rose.

I agreed in an instant, hopping on his back as he chuckled. We walked from one end of the camp to the other by the time the army awoke. Saphira, Glaedr, and Thorn were stunning in the sunlight.

When we started heading back towards Roran's tent, a messenger boy runs up. "General Roran, Lady Ella, Nasuada requests your presence in the command tent!"

"Thank you, Jarsha," Roran answered the breathless boy. "Are the riders there?"

"No, sir, they requested to be left alone on Rider business until noon."

"Thank you, Jarsha, you have delivered your message well, would you like to lead the way back?"

The boy went red and nodded, scampering in front of us. I didn't jump off Roran's back until we stopped outside, then walked in holding his hand.

The entire council of the Varden was leaning over a map, discussing something. Nasuada looked up with a grin as Roran entered.

"Roran, glad you could make it. I have just received word that the siege of Aroughs is going very poorly. I am sending you and Ella there to finish the siege with whatever supplies are left. Horses have been arranged for the two of you. Ella, I suppose you wouldn't know anything about the elvish horse that started prancing around outside of camp this morning?"

"Folkvír!" I exclaimed, and nearly ran out of the room right then. "If he's carrying me, we can make it to Aroughs in no time."

"How long?"

"Three days? If I had my glider and could stay off his back as much as possible, probably two."

Nasuada gritted her teeth. "Change of plans. Ella, Eragon recreated your glider while you were recovering. Go retrieve it and any weapons or supplies you'll need. You're going to take control and find some way to end the siege, I don't care how, even if you kill the city. I need the men back here yesterday. Come back and get your official orders before you leave." I immediately skipped out. Most of my stuff was in Eragon's tent. Saphira opened one eye to watch me as I ran in and out, immediately noticing a new glider, sung directly out of a tree. Unlike my other gliders, I couldn't take this one apart or fold it, but it would hold up to a lot more than my old ones. It even had a harness to cut down on my need for magic while flying.

I skidded back into the tent where Nasuada was. Roran grabbed my arm before I could do anything.

"With all due respect, Nasuada, look at her! She's only nine years old, and doesn't even look her age!"

"It's not about appearance, Roran. She's just as capable as you, and this siege needs to end."

"She's never commanded men before!"

"She's been trained in military tactics alongside Eragon—"

"Then send Eragon!"

"We can't afford to send off a Rider while we are so close to Dras-Leona!"

"Does that mean Ella is just expendable? Some sort of cheap copy?"

"Yes!" Nasuada snapped.

Roran seethed. "She's a little girl! If the soldiers even listen to her—"

"They will listen, Roran. I can assure that. She has all the necessary skill and strength to succeed."

"She—"

"She has killed a Shade, Roran. Unless you can find a way to get to Aroughs in two days, she's going alone."

Roran released me.

"I need you to lead another group comprised of humans and Urgals on another raiding expedition." Nasuada held out a sealed page to me and I took it, squeezing Roran's hand on my way out.

As I ran to meet Folkvír, I said goodbye to Eragon and Oromis, summarizing my orders. Eragon didn't like it, but he didn't protest like Roran, and Oromis only wished me luck.

The dragons wished me happy hunting before everyone but Brom withdrew from the contact. _You won't capture Aroughs with conventional methods._ He followed the statement with a series of images and several memories of the city. It wasn't much to go on, but it gave me an idea of what to do.

The race to Aroughs was exhilarating for the first hour. Then it was dull. I entertained myself by chatting with Folkvír—as much as one can chat with a running horse. During the night, I rode atop Folkvír's back, too scared of making a mistake in the darkness while flying. We made it to Aroughs the evening of the second day. It was an impressive trip, and the General, Brigman, just curled his lip at me and showed me to my tent after I brushed down and fed Folkvír. The confrontation would come in the morning. Luckily, I had a very good idea what I was planning on doing to capture Aroughs. I forced myself to wake up before the rest of the camp and walked through, inspecting supplies and monitoring the general mood of everyone as they woke, waiting for Brigman to get up and think I'm idle before stepping in with my plan that I finalized when I figured out what supplies I had to work with.

When he marched towards my tent in agitation, I took a running start and flew across the camp on my glider, landing silently behind him when he threw open my tent flap.

"Looking for me?" The man cursed and nearly knocked over the tent in surprise. "I have a plan, but I need to see the city's defenses for myself and I also need to find a way to engage the magician or magicians inside of Aroughs before we begin the assault. Suggestions?"

"You crossed over fifty leagues in two days! How are you—"

"Awake? I'm half elf, General. Elves recover quickly."

"You were injured—"

"My brother healed me. Magic can do wonders when one has the skill and energy for it. You are correct that I am not up to a hundred percent, but in the time it takes to make the preparations for my plan, I will be. Now, I need to be briefed on the current defenses of the city."

Brigman gritted his teeth and motioned me towards the city, accompanied by several soldiers. His briefing is short and to the point, concluding that there is no way to take the city, at least not with the time and resources we have.

"Tell your men to pull the siege engines away from the wall and place them between the camp and the city, then begin dismantling them, then build a scaffold with a walkway where a man in armor can comfortably run from one end to the other. Make it as long as you possibly can and build it halfway between the camp and the city."

"What could that possibly accomplish?"

"Absolutely nothing. It's just a distraction from what the real attack will be. If we're lucky, we'll be able to lure a squadron or two out of the city so I can kill them dramatically. The psychological part of this battle will dishearten the conscripted soldiers. Hopefully, we'll be able to persuade the rest to surrender, then we can march back with all the supplies we can carry."

Brigman blanched and took a step away from me. "What's the real attack?"

"I'll be flying into the city on the new moon in four days to threaten the leader and the military captains directly. If they refuse to comply or have sworn oaths to Galbatorix, I'll—" I froze. "I need to talk to Nasuada and my brother before I try that."

Brigman took another step back and glanced at the soldiers who accompanied us, but stayed out of earshot.

"I need a mirror."

I wasn't sure where Brigman pulled the mirror from, but I'd barely finished asking by the time he handed it to me.

I scried Eragon first to speak with him, unintentionally interrupting the meeting between the three riders and Brom, a former Rider.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin, Shur'tugals," I greeted, impatiently waiting for them to finish the greeting, then continued in the Ancient Language. "Can I scare the magicians in Aroughs by pretending I know the name of the Ancient Language and force them to surrender?"

"No," Brom, Oromis, and Eragon snapped.

Eragon explained the answer. "If word gets back to Galbatorix and he believes your bluff, it could prompt him to fly out himself."

"Isn't that what we want? To face Galbatorix without his army?"

"She has a point," Murtaugh commented.

"We might be able to fight him, the four of us, if we have the might of the elves behind us, but what would be the collateral damage?" A fight between four dragons could destroy the entirety of the Varden in the crossfire," Oromis reasoned. "Also, our chances of getting support from the elves in time would be next to impossible."

"Okay, fine, there goes my idea. I guess I'll go with my original idea. Thanks for the perspective—"

"Wait, Ella, Saphira wants to know your plan," Eragon interrupted.

"I plan to find a way to draw out the magicians and kill them, hopefully alongside a squad of soldiers and with magic. If that doesn't scare whomever is in charge into backing down, then I'll start dismantling the leadership. Is that all?"

Warily, Brom posed the next question. "How exactly do you plan on dismantling the leadership?"

"We don't have the resources to imprison anyone and unless I can find a way to circumvent any oath they might have given there's no other choice." I tried hedging around the answer, knowing they'll disapprove, but no one took the bait.

"You can't just kill them, Ella."

"What would you have me do instead?"

"Find another way. No one is fighting by choice."

I grit my teeth. "There are eight hundred men here and we're facing a force three times our size. I have no other options."

"Killing your way through your enemies, especially your enemies by circumstance, it makes you no better than Galbatorix," Eragon murmured.

"Someone has to get their hands dirty," I responded in a low voice. "Unless you can give me a better alternative that preserves the lives of Varden soldiers, I'm going with my plan to dismantle the leadership."

"Ella—"

"I'm sorry, Eragon."

My brother gritted his teeth and turned to Oromis, who was just as disapproving. "Find another way."

"What other way? Tell me and I'll try it. I don't want to do this, but we can't win by force."

"Get the soldiers inside of the city. Surprise them. Once you're inside, if you keep your nerve and made it in undetected, you're guaranteed a win."

I gritted my teeth. "I can't sneak enough soldiers in at once, I don't have that much energy stored up. That's if I can find a way in without launching people over the wall."

"Hold on a moment while I ask Roran something," Eragon said without warning.

A minute later, he grinned. "What?" I scowled.

"Break down the wall."

"Eragon," I responded with forced patience, "The walls are dwarf work. I'd have better luck killing Shruikan with a toothpick."

"Oromis said there's a mill with a river that leads into the city. There's probably a lot of flour they didn't manage to move inside the city, so you can use the glider I made you—do you like it?—and fill a section of the city and make it go boom as a distraction. Roran said there are probably sluice gates nearby. Weigh down a barge and use a flood to bust it through whatever gate restricts access to the city via the water."

"That could kill just as many soldiers and trap us in the water."

"Not if you time it just right. If you get the magicians out of the way, you might be able to teach one of the messenger boys to use your glider and make the distraction, while you communicate mentally to orchestrate the rest."

I nodded to Eragon. "I'll do that instead. Let Nasuada know I contacted." I ended the spell before they could say anything more and handed the mirror back to Brigman. "We have a plan now. I need you to send someone to close the sluice gates as soon as possible."

"What is this plan?" He inquired cautiously, as if I was going to curse him if he caused offense.

"Bust into the city on a barge and blow stuff up. Next, I need you to get the person under your command closest to my size."

"What good can an untrained child do?"

"They can use my glider and drop flour bombs while I make sure we get into the city."

Brigman stiffened, then laid a hand on my shoulder and steered me further away from the soldiers. "Unless you plan on wresting complete control of this army away from me, neither you nor the messenger boys will play an active role in this battle. I don't let women and children fight my battles, and neither do my men."

I was about to protest when he continued.

"My men fight for their wives and children, Lady Ella. They won't let me send one of the children to fight their fight, and they certainly won't let you be a part of the fight."

"There's a magician in the city, I can sense the spells. You don't stand a chance without me."

"You have no idea how to lead an army, little girl."

I straightened indignantly.

"It's nothing like the books you've read or the strategies you were taught. You're ordering men to kill and die but these men aren't hardened soldiers in any sense. They're murdering their former neighbors, their kin, Lady Ella. If you have any sense, you'll listen to me and step down now. Tell me your plan. Stay nearby, but do not take part in this fight."

"I'm just as capable, more so, than any soldier here."

"You've given us a way out of this standoff, that's what Lady Nasuada wanted. In three days, this siege will be over, for better or for worse."

"With all due respect, I've killed a shade."

"The men know who you are. It doesn't change anything. Ajihad would never have allowed you into that fight and these men followed Ajihad far longer than they have followed Lady Nasuada and his ideals will stick with them for a long time yet, one of those is making sure no one but soldiers are endangered by these disputes."

"I am a soldier."

"You're not even ten years old, yes, I asked Nasuada. She made you her bodyguard to keep you out of the rest of the war. I don't care what you think, you are not joining this fight."

"I am worth ten of any one soldier here!"

"That's not the point."

"Tactically, you can't win without me. There's at least one magician inside and he or she will—"

"You intimidate the soldiers, you intimidate anyone who fights you."

"I'm just a kid as you like to insist."

"A kid, a girl-child who could face any soldier here and win. A girl-child barely out of infancy and superior to them in every way. You have a higher rank, extremely influential relative, adopted or not, and everything it takes to back up your position, superior to them in every way. I swear I will contact you if your assistance is needed. If you absolutely must, I can ask one of the men to allow you to monitor the battle through them, in case the magician shows up."

I grit my teeth.

"I can force you—"

"You can, but you won't because even if there was the slightest chance I was telling the truth, you wouldn't risk it."

I grit my teeth, but yield the point to him.

"I will find a soldier who will allow you to monitor the battle through him and you will work with him during the preparations, understood?"

"Understood."

"Your only job left is to defeat any magician who rears their head, damn Nasuada's orders."

"Understood."

"The only reason you are to enter the city is if a Shade or Galbatorix himself appears."

"If either appear, we high-tail it back to the Varden, damn the city. I got lucky with the first shade and it will take many more dragons and riders than we have to defeat old Galby."

"Never let anyone hear you say that. Never let soldiers see anything but the utmost confidence from you or we'll lose any chance we might have."

"Understood."

(o)

The assault went better than anyone could have expected.

At the same time, it went worse than we feared. The men made it into the city without a problem, and a lucky arrow managed to kill the city's spellcaster before I had to intervene. Unfortunately, someone had told Galbatorix about the little girl who defeated a Shade and he somehow found out I was in Aroughs. A trio of spellcasters, strengthened by an Eldunarí each, ambushed me while I waited for the soldiers to return from the city.

It wasn't so much an ambush but a challenge, a challenge and a threat issued just as the triumphant soldiers returned.

"Shadeslayer!" They hailed me, mockingly. They were the first person to call me by that title to my face. "Ella, älfa-dautr, sister to Eragon Shadeslayer and Roran Stronghammer! Prove yourself or we slaughter this army and this city!"

It wasn't an empty threat. I touched the Isidar Mithrim around my neck. It was full of energy. Eragon, Oromis, and Murtaugh each donated a significant about before I left, as well as Thorn, Glaedr, and Saphira. Even though it was brimming with energy, it didn't stand a chance against the hearts of three dragons, even three young ones., especially if they joined forces.

"Scared, little girl?" They taunted, speaking together like a demented chorus from a Greek play. Only then did I realize someone was speaking through them.

"Depends on who I am talking to," I responded, much more confident than I felt.

The three puffed out their chests like indignant peacocks.

"That's quite the ostentatious display," I commented.

"That is no way to address your king!"

"I have no king!"

"I do not need your acknowledgement, just your obedience."

"I obey those who have earned it."

"The entirety of Alagaësia will bow to me!"

I'd never tried to perform a nonverbal spell. Oromis forbid me from attempting it, but I didn't dare give anyone any warning. Before the mental battle could begin, I put as much energy as I dared into vaporizing the three human magicians.

It worked. On the magicians. The Eldunarí were another story. The second the magicians were gone, they assaulted my mind, all their efforts focused on me, breaking into my mind and stealing my true name to control me. If I tried, I could hold off Oromis and Glaedr. I could hold off Eragon and Oromis. I could hold off up to eight elves at once. I couldn't hold off Saphira and Glaedr for more than a few minutes. I could defeat Saphira if I had enough time, but Glaedr was far out of my league.

The Eldunarí were several years older than Saphira when they were disgorged. I didn't stand a chance against all three at once.

I didn't even try to fight back, I just collapsed, protecting my core self and all significant memories behind the first thing that came to mind, a song. It was a lullaby I remembered Eragon singing to me when he first brought me home.

I don't know how long I locked myself away from everything and endured the assault of the dragons. I just knew I would never forget the song when it was all over.

Eventually, someone got through, cracking open the steel around my mind in a single, massive assault, focused on a single memory. No defense could hold up to it. The individual washed through my mind, and for a moment, I fought, but they were already occupying my mind, I couldn't hide anything, they had my true name. One of Galbatorix's Eldunarí had complete control over me, yet my mind was still intact and no one would be able to tell the difference. The connection went both ways, I knew everything about Bronnyr, a young, very intelligent dragon who was one of the last Eldunarí Galbatorix captured. She had died years before the death of Galbatorix's first dragon in a tragic flying accident with her rider, a female elf named Artin who was only thirty years old. Bronnyr had managed something I thought was impossible, not to mention unethical to even try. She had pulled the full consciousness of both herself and her rider into her Eldunarí when an unexpected storm slammed them into the waters north of Vroengard and trapped them at the bottom of a sudden whirlpool. They weren't found until long after Galbatorix took control and stole the Eldunarí from their bones.

Bronnyr had known something was wrong the moment her Eldunarí was pulled from the bottom of the ocean. Between him and Artin, they created a third personality, complete with a true name, for Galbatorix to subdue and enslave. The third personality had nearly taken over when they were sent out with the magicians. When I vaporized them, it broke the spells Galbatorix put around the Eldunarí that strengthened the third personality, allowing them to regain control and effectively subdue the other two Eldunarí and myself. I tried to persuade them that Eragon could help, but the two had been older than Eragon and Saphira and had little respect for them.

Artin took full control of my body and with the other two Eldunarí, forced me to pick up everything I owned and take off to the ocean. Apparently, Bronnyr was about to have four eggs and gave birth to them in her last moments. Galbatorix failed to retrieve them.

Nothing could dissuade Bronnyr and Artin from retrieving them. I begged them to at least let me tell Eragon what was going on. It wasn't until we had commandeered a boat nearly too big for my small frame to manage and lost sight of land that they allowed me enough control to scry Eragon.

When he appeared in the mirror, he was panicked and desperately demanded to know what happened. I told him one of Galbatorix's Eldunarí had managed to destroy his control over them, and defeated me in turn.

"You're on a boat, Ella, where are you?"

I tried tell him, but after I ignored Bronnyr's warning, Artin forced me to live through a memory of a deadly gut wound. I doubled over in pain, screaming and crying until she released me. "They won't let me tell you," I responded as Eragon continued to panic.

"Who won't let you say?"

"A dragon named Bronnyr and her rider, an elf named Artin."

Oromis appeared beside Eragon. "They were presumed dead before even Galbatorix was born, Ella, you must be mistaken."

Bronnyr didn't care what I said about them since neither Oromis nor Eragon could hurt them without hurting me, so he let me give them a brief summary of what happened to them. "They died in a sudden squall and Bronnyr pulled Artin into his Eldunarí with him and they created a third person that allowed them to avoid Galbatorix's control when he retrieved their Eldunarí from the bottom of the ocean." Artin warned me against saying anything more, so I didn't.

Oromis and Eragon exchanged a look and I knew they were communicating mentally. Eragon disappeared from view and a few seconds later, I felt Isidar Mithrim grow warm and I knew Eragon was attempting to locate me, but the wards Artin added stopped him.

"I would like to speak with the individuals who have captured you, Ella."

They almost lazily wrested control away from me. "Master Oromis," they greeted in unison.

"Bronnyr and Artin, I presume?" I could tell he was more than a little unnerved when he realized exactly how they had defeated me.

"We have changed Ella's true name, so you have no way to control her or us, Master Oromis, say your piece."

"Whatever quest you are on, we can help, we'll do whatever you want, just let Ella go."

"This isn't a negotiation, Master." They switched to the Ancient Language. "We will not do any permanent harm to the child. Once we have completed our quest and once Galbatorix is defeated, we can meet and potentially come to an agreement, but until then, her body is suitable for our purposes and belongs to us."

Eragon reappeared, snarling, Saphira and the other dragons growling alongside him, making the sound reverberate across the water. Oromis stood between him and our image, ordering him to stand down. When Eragon restrained himself, Oromis told him Bronnyr and Artin would keep their word. At that, they ended the spell.


	17. Chapter 17

It wasn't much longer before I realized everything I knew about my captors was carefully given to me and they had even more control than I first thought. When night fell, they laid my body beneath the deck and retreated from my mind, draining my energy with them until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Because of their influence, I slept better than I had since the first hunting trip with Eragon that started everything.

When I woke, I knew they had gone through every single memory I had, in great detail. It took them three days and I was asleep for the whole time, but they did. I also knew they were doing their best to protect my psyche from the damage. I'd never been so utterly helpless. We didn't leave the boat or see land for five days after that, until they were absolutely certain I wouldn't try to escape the first chance I got.

The dragon and rider genuinely cared about me. Once they established control and made sure I understood their rules and that they wouldn't tolerate me exploiting loopholes, they retreated from my mind and allowed me to act for myself. We stopped once at a tiny village completely cut off from the Empire and they allowed me to go into town and gather any and all supplies I needed or wanted. I spent two weeks in that village, working for the supplies. Sometimes, I briefly convinced myself I was just an orphan in the village and Bronnyr and Artin were just some scary dream. When we left the village, we didn't stop again until we reached Vroengard.

I knew something was wrong with my mind when I started defending the duo. Sure, they helped the other two Eldunarí return to semi-sanity over the course of the three-month boat ride. They entertained me with seemingly endless stories and taught me more about dragons and riders than Eragon probably knew. I taught them Dwarvish and Urgal as well as told the occasional story. They kept me healthy, rested, and full. I caught myself thinking that I could live like that forever, the boat rocking gently beneath me, drifting over the ocean. I watched the whales surface around us, even spotted a Nïdhwal on the horizon. They allowed me to talk with the other two dragons on occasion. The conversations were interesting, if limited in time.

Once the eggs were retrieved, we found one of the structures on the island that was mostly intact and I lived there, exploring the island. The island felt timeless and I split my days between learning from my captors and exploring the island. I managed to avoid the more dangerous creatures. It was dumb luck that my path crossed Eragon's during one of my expeditions. I literally ran headfirst into him in the mist. We both fell on our butts and froze, staring at each other. Eragon hesitantly reached out to touch my mind and be sure of my identity. I just stared at him because below my surface thoughts, shielded from Eragon, Artin was giving me a very clear warning to say absolutely nothing without their consent.

"Ella? Is that you?"

I nodded, still sitting stiffly on the wet ground, even when Eragon stood up and reached down to help me to my feet. Artin didn't interfere with me, but her threat was very clear and both her and Bronnyr were paying close attention. He caught on to the situation faster than I expected and grabbed my arms to set me on my feet, crouching to look me in the eye, then to gently clean a bit of mud from my face.

"Did you escape?"

I shook my head for no.

"Are you hurt?"

I shook my head.

"Where are you camping?"

My hand twitched to point, but Artin was faster and gave me a splitting headache until I shook my head for a third time.

"Did Bronnyr and Artin finish their quest?"

I nodded.

"Are they in your head now?"

Nod.

He frowned and his head tilted to the side as he took in my appearance. I was slightly muddy from the recent fall and wandering Vroengard in the mist, but otherwise he couldn't find anything wrong. "Did you brush your hair this morning?"

Nod.

"Was the quest here to search for more Eldunarí?"

Before he finished the question, I knew Eragon slipped up big time. He was here looking for Eldunarí. He knew there were Eldunarí left on this island. Bronnyr and Artin knew this island better than Eragon could ever hope to. Artin took over my body and forced me to take a step back, then turn and run. Eragon was faster, much faster than I remembered him. He grabbed me from behind and with a movement too smooth to not have been practiced a hundred times, twisted both arms behind my back and pinned me against the nearest stone.

"Who am I talking to?" Eragon asked calmly. I could feel his heart beating against my back, slow and steady. I'd never seen this kind of emotional restraint from him.

"You're speaking with Artin."

"Before, was I speaking with you or Ella?"

"Ella."

"Good. I want you to understand this. The thing I want most right now is to have my sister back, whole and no longer corrupted by you, Bronnyr, or any other creature under your thrall, understood?"

"Understood."

"Your connection to her can only extend a limited distance, so if I wanted to, I could take her, right now, and pull her out of your influence. Unlike you, I have a living dragon that can scorch this island so not even an Eldunarí could survive her wrath, understood?"

"Understood."

"I am not Galbatorix and I am not some inexperienced, incapable, or impotent child, understood?"

"Understood."

"Even though it's by default, I am the head of the Riders, understood?"

"Understood."

"That means you, Artin, rider of Bronnyr, and Bronnyr, dragon of Artin, swore an oath when you became rider and bonded dragon to uphold the order of the Riders, so Eldunarí or not answer to me, Eragon Shadeslayer, head of the Riders, rider of Saphira, and you answer to Saphira, dragon of Eragon Shadeslayer, head of the Riders, understood?"

Artin wasn't happy about it, but answered anyway. "Understood."

"In the Ancient Language, please."

"I acknowledge you, Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales as the head of the order of Riders and as such I and my dragon Bronnyr answer to you as our liege," Artin stated in the Ancient Language.

"Now, where is your camp located?"

"The northernmost tip of Vroengard, in a small boat with a single mast, tied to the only tree to survive Vroengard's fall."

"You are going to release my sister from any and all oaths, compulsions, influences, or manipulations you might have put her under."

"We put her under no oaths or compulsions. We did not influence or manipulate her in any way beyond threats and observing the direction of her thoughts to control behavior."

Eragon's grip on me relaxed slightly. "You will dismantle any and all shields around your mind and Saphira will make sure you are telling me the truth. You are not to resist her in any way and you are to inform the other two Eldunarí that they are to do the same or Saphira will crush them."

"Done."

A long silence stretched on until Eragon finally relaxed a little bit more.

"You have not requested our true names."

"I am not Galbatorix. I have no use for your true names. Finally, you are not to contact my sister in any way, ever again, without the direct supervision of myself, Saphira, Oromis, or Glaedr. As soon as you and Bronnyr swear this, individually, you are to withdraw completely from Ella."

"I, Artin, rider of Bronnyr, swear never to contact Ella Shadeslayer, sister of Eragon Shadeslayer, ever again without the direct supervision of Earagon Shadeslayer, Saphira Brightscales, Oromis, the Cripple who is Whole, or Glaedr, dragon of Oromis, the Cripple who is Whole."

"I, Bronnyr, dragon of Artin, swear never to contact Ella Shadeslayer, sister of Eragon Shadeslayer, ever again without the direct supervision of Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira Brightscales, Oromis, the Cripple who is Whole, or Glaedr, dragon of Oromis, the Cripple who is Whole."

They pulled from my mind without another word. As soon as Eragon was sure they were gone, he built a wall around my mind and released me as if I burned him. I turned around to face him, rubbing the pain out of my joints.

When I finally looked up at him he was on his knees, pale and trembling. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Eragon? Are you okay?" My voice sounded so frail after Eragon's commanding tone and the vows.

"I'm sorry, Ella, I'm sorry I scared you like that."

"You didn't scare me."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I crawled over to him and wriggled under his arm and curled against his chest, wrapping my arms around his torso. After a moment, I realized that he was crying. That scared me more than anything except facing down Galbatorix through the magicians. I'd never seen him break down from stress and for the first time I realized that he was only sixteen. He was sixteen and responsible for not only me, but keeping the entirety of the Varden safe, leading a new era of dragon riders, and ultimately, the impossible task of defeating the strongest Rider and king to ever live.

He managed to get me back, but it was dumb luck. He was too far away to protect the Varden if the worst happened. This was probably the first time he ever exercised his authority over a subordinate and his tone and methods were much harsher than any punishment he'd seen or witnessed before, at least any that I knew of, especially from the perspective of a farm boy. He may have grown and changed, but the way he was raised would forever be a significant part of him. Roran had steel in him, a steel that allowed him to deal out death and punishment when necessary and without regret.

Artin and Bronnyr's mistrust of him was perfectly reasonable. Eragon didn't have the same steel as the rest of his family and cruelty didn't come easy to him, justified or not.

"I'm sorry, Ella, I should be taking care of you right now—"

"It's okay, Eragon, I can wait. It's not fair to you that you have to take care of everyone else. I'm here for you, no matter what because that's what family is for, especially when you're hurting. I love you, Eragon."

His arms tightened around me. "I love you too, Ella, I don't know what I'd do without you."

I was his not-so-secret emotional crutch. "I know what you would do, Eragon, you would survive, you would show everyone that you are stronger than they think, and a better person than any of them, no matter what they do to you."

(o)

I didn't ask what Eragon and Saphira were doing on Vroengard and they didn't offer the information. Eragon disappeared one morning, leaving Saphira curled around me and guarding my mind. For the whole day Eragon was gone, Saphira shielded me from the torrential rain with her wing and warmed me with her breath. She didn't try to talk to me, and I didn't feel comfortable talking to her mentally, at least not yet. The day before, Eragon mentioned that he would make sure someone trusted was guarding my mind until I could break the shield from the inside and replace it with my own. Whatever Artin and Bronnyr had done to me destroyed my ability to shield my own mind.

When Eragon returned the next day, he seemed a little more confident. I told him the problem and he immediately contacted Oromis for the answer.

Ebrithil just looked at me sadly, then turned back to Eragon. "It would have been kinder if they had broken her mind. Then, we could rebuild, but what they did was something much crueler. I know for certain Artin and Bronnyr did not do this intentionally. Not even Galbatorix is capable of intentionally doing this to another person. In fact, Ella's situation is not unlike Brom or Galbatorix's."

"What do you mean?" Eragon snapped defensively. "My father is nothing like—"

"Brom's Saphira died and it left a hole in him nothing can fill. Galbatorix tried to fill his own hole with another dragon, but nothing can replace the bond between dragon and rider. You can no longer understand what it's like to live without a partner of heart and soul and no lover can compare to your bond with Saphira. Ella experienced that bond vicariously. You and Saphira, though close, do not have a bond as strong as most riders of your age and experience, which is why I never cautioned you about communicating mentally with anyone. Artin and Bronnyr, however, have a bond stronger that is most likely stronger than my bond with Glaedr because of their unique circumstance. Ella experienced that bond and now her situation is similar Brom's or Galbatorix's at the death of their dragons. From what you've told me, she's fine, but her body is mourning, and her mind unconsciously searching for a partner of heart and soul."

"Can Saphira and I help at all?"

"You can try, but please do not. You and Saphira already have made your bond, and you can't add another to it and it will only hurt Ella more in the long run. Only time can heal her now."

"What if one of the dragon eggs hatch for her? You showed me how to know if a baby dragon has chosen his or her rider."

"That would be an ideal situation, it is probably the only thing that can help Ella return to herself faster, but as much as Saphira, Glaedr, Thorn, and even the Eldunarí in your care may admire her, she has very little in common with most riders. Before Galbatorix, she would not have been considered as a candidate. Do not get your hopes up."

"Why not?"

"That is very difficult to explain. The eggs that have a small chance at bonding with her will be the largest or the smallest, and most likely male. Start there, and again I warn you not to get your hopes up. Whether one hatches or not, take Ella to the edge of Du Weldenvarden and send her to Ellesméra. If a dragon hatches for her, we cannot risk a fledgling in the coming battles, especially one who cannot carry their rider, and if one does not, she is too much of a liability in her state to accompany us to Ilirea. We will have to defeat Galbatorix without her, and if we lose, she will have time to flee. Make sure you give her one of the Eldunarí who can guide her there."

I was sitting right there, in full view of Oromis, but he continued to talk about me as if I wasn't there. I preferred it that way. If I had a choice, I would stay holed up under Saphira's wing for a long time.

Eragon pulled me into his lap and reexplained the situation.

"I understand."

After lowering the barrier around my mind, he handed me dragon eggs one at a time. I absently rubbed the smooth shells with my fingertips until Eragon took them away. I wasn't entirely certain where he was getting the eggs from, but I didn't bother to look, I could feel the magic thrumming under his skin as he stimulated the eggs to accept or reject me.

I didn't know what to expect. Eragon was desperate, and from the press of emotions of a countless number of minds watching with metaphorically bated breath, many more individuals were in just as much suspense. I felt it there, but I didn't share any of their enthusiasm.

Eragon had lost hope by the time we reached the last egg, but it trembled in his hands before I even touched it, and Eragon dropped it in my lap in surprise, earning him an annoyed snarl from Saphira, but the annoyance was short lived as the egg shuddered in my lap. It hatched much faster than Saphira hatched for Eragon. By the time a pale, indigo head emerged from the shell, all other thoughts were gone. I reached forward to touch the tiny head. I heard Eragon and Saphira yelp and jump away as magic coursed through us and shocked them with the backlash. It raced through my veins like ice, paralyzing me, then knocking me flat on my back.

I was only unconscious for a minute or two, but when I woke up, Eragon was nursing a bleeding hand and my beautiful, pale indigo baby dragon had a bloody maw that dripped on my shirt as he planted himself on my chest. My dear bother would carry that scar for the rest of his very long life. In about a century, I would let the matter drop, but Saphira… Eragon would never live that down.

The gedwey ignasia shone brightly across the heel of my left hand.

"His name is Perun," I murmured as my dragon nestled into my neck. He filled a void in me I didn't even know I had. Eragon handed me several strips of meat and I happily fed them to Perun. Too soon, Eragon picked us both up and we mounted Saphira. He fashioned a sling to hold Perun against my chest as he slept off his first meal. For the first few minutes of flight, I sat in front of Eragon, but he let me turn sideways and sleep against his chest, Perun cradled between us, sniffing my face.

Eragon woke me up as we landed in what used to be Carvahall. Perun hadn't slept the entire flight, his snout nuzzled against my neck, not even stirring as Eragon lifted me off Saphira's back and set me on my feet. Eragon wandered around the ruins, murmuring to himself, or Saphira, I wasn't sure, I just knew this was the first chance he's had to grieve. It didn't take me long to tire of walking and settle on one of the stumps in the village center, staring at the remnants of Brom's house. After a while, I wake up Perun and leave him sniffing around Saphira's belly while I picked through Brom's house, looking for any papers left intact. I find several books that are still legible and sit down against Saphira to read. For the first time since our reunion, Saphira contacts me.

 _You need to check on Perun, he is acting strange for a young dragon._

I put down my book and picked up Perun, carefully checking him over, even as he protested when I stretched his wings and turned him on his back.

"Let me," Eragon murmured, sitting down in front of me and carefully lifting Perun from my lap. Perun snapped once at Eragon but automatically settled down when he rubbed over Perun's back, between his wings. When Perun relaxed against him, Eragon used a cloth to wipe the last of the fluids of the egg from Perun's face. "Ella, is he communicating any images to you?"

"Just emotions, why?"

"Ask him to describe you."

I did and after a moment, I received a stream of scents, sounds, sensations, emotions, even taste, but nothing visual.

"Anything visual?"

"Nothing—why?"

Eragon settled Perun into my lap, his expression sad. "Because he's blind. It explains why the other dragons told me to destroy the egg."

"What?"

"They asked me to crush the egg rather than give it to you. I couldn't and I'm not sorry for it."

Perun nuzzled my face, sending a wordless question through our link. "He's still perfect. I don't want to go to Ellesméra, I want to help you fight, Perun does too."

"Ella, the only people who might want you to be a part of this battle are the Urgals, but even they will protest if you try and bring a blind, baby dragon into the fight. Saphira was the size of a horse when she first fought, Perun isn't even as big as you and unlike you, can barely defend himself."

"He bit you, didn't he?"

"We both know that was a lucky strike."

"I'm one of the strongest magicians the Varden has!"

"The answer is no, Ella, you're staying in Ellesméra until this war is over."

"Then how is Perun going to learn how to fly if he can't see the trees?"

"He can learn on the crags, there is enough space there for a dragon as small as him to learn."

"I don't trust the elves with a baby dragon."

"No one is allowed on the crags without invitation, they won't bother you."

"What about Du Fells Nángoröth instead? We can head straight back towards Urû'baen and you can drop me off anywhere the elves already conquered and I can use my glider to fly there. Then you can scry me as soon as you defeat Galbatorix and I can be there in two days."

"You can't find enough food for Perun in the desert."

"You know that's not true. The wild dragons used to live there. During the Du Fyrn Skulblaka, they raised young there."

Eragon hesitated. "Let me ask Oromis."

He walked away and scried Oromis just out of my earshot. Saphira listened intently even as I leaned against her and hugged Perun.

After a few minutes, Eragon called me over. I carried Perun, who would be too big to carry in less than a week, and greeted Oromis, who just studied me and Perun.

"This isn't my decision to make. Ella is perfectly capable of protecting herself and another, she proved that when she retrieved you after your hare-brained trip to Helgrind. Unless Galbatorix creates a shade or chases her down himself, there isn't anything in the desert she can't handle."

"I know that, but is it right to let her—"

"Right and wrong have nothing to do with this, Eragon," Oromis snapped. "You have three options, send Ella to Ellesméra where she will be cut off from communication with an impressionable infant dragon very few elves have seen before but protected by innumerable wards, let her go to Du Fells Nángoröth where she will be alone with only have the wards hanging around her neck but in full communication with you, or bring her with you where she will be in the center of a military camp and within the grasp of Galbatorix but under the protection of the entire order of Riders as it stands now. That is your choice, Eragon, make it. The positive and negatives balance out in the end."

Eragon nodded and ended the spell.

"Ella, which would you prefer?"

"I want to fight."

"What about Perun?"

"I can keep him safe."

"The siege of Urû'baen begins the moment I return. It will be a day, maybe a day and a half. You cannot prepare Perun for a fight like that in this short of time."

"Eragon, you have no idea how much luck went into just surviving the Burning Plains and Feinster. Even then I wasn't even present for the whole battle. I swear, I'll stay at the back of the army and only care for the wounded. I won't even enter the city."

I received dubious looks from them. Even Saphira, who wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, scoffed at me. I crossed my arms defensively.

"I will drop you off on the other side of the Ramr river. You and Perun will head towards Du Fells Nángoröth. In three days, you are to use the draumr kópa spell, and I will make a specific allowance for you to bypass my wards. If the war has not gone in our favor, you are to flee towards Eldor Lake. When you get there, try the spell again. If Galbatorix has won, do not try to come back unless you are absolutely certain you can defeat me and every other know rider and dragon in a single fight or have the name of the Ancient Language on your lips."

I couldn't make a promise like that. Eragon picked me up under my arms and set me on his hip like a child, something he hadn't done since long before Saphira's hatching. I clung to him like a monkey and buried my face in his neck.

"I'm sorry, Ella, but I can't lose you. If Galbatorix wins, knowing you're free of his control, and eventually, you will defeat him, is the only thing I'll have left, it'll be mine and Saphira's only hope."

He's scared. I'm scared because he is. Though he defers to the wisdom of Oromis and Glaedr, aside from Galbatorix, Eragon is the strongest person in the world and he knows it. He's scared of himself.

"You're going to win this war, Eragon," I murmur into his shoulder as he sits against Saphira. Perun curled around our necks like a scaly scarf and Saphira nuzzled Eragon's side.

"I'm sixteen, Ella. I'm barely an adult! How am I supposed to take down someone who is six times my age and infinitely stronger than me?"

"With help," I responded simply. "You have the support of six sentient races, Galbatorix has half the support of one, the weakest of them all. The odds are against him."

Saphira hummed, her entire body vibrating, as if she was purring. After a moment, Perun started to copy her, vibrating himself off our shoulders. Eragon caught him with one hand and lowered him to the ground where he automatically wormed his way between us.

Eragon took a deep breath and stood up without setting either of us down. "It's time to go."


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, we made it to the Ramr river. Saphira didn't stop, Eragon just harnessed me to my glider, and then harnessed Perun to my chest. I leapt off Saphira's back then shot off towards Du Fells Nángoröth.

It should have been a foolproof plan.

We made it to Du Fells Nángoröth before nightfall. After we ate dinner, I set up my sleeping mat, set the fire so it wouldn't burn out and leave us to freeze in the middle of the night, then curled up with Perun to sleep. When I opened my eyes, a man with a stern face and wrapped in a black cape stared at me from across the campfire. There was an inky black curtain behind him. That covered the broken wall of Du Fells Nángoröth.

Galbatorix.

I hugged Perun close as I sat up and inched as far away from him as I could until my back pressed against a stone wall. How he managed to get here without waking me was a mystery. The curtain behind him shuffled out of the way to reveal a massive dragon's head with an eye so large I could live inside of it. We were trapped. I didn't stand a chance against him.

He stood up and walked to me, then took a knee, inches away. I didn't dare move as he reached towards me, brushing my sleep-mussed hair out of my face.

"Such a little thing," he murmured. His voice was pleasant, powerful, and made me want to do whatever he asked. I pulled back, terrified, guarding my mind and Perun's like a feral animal guards their young. My mind was still damaged from my time under Bronnyr and Artin's control and he wouldn't even need Shruikan's help to break through my defenses. "You're clever enough to know when you've lost." He murmured a string of words in the Ancient Language. I didn't understand them, but suddenly, a small cage appeared beside him. It was the size of a dog crate and made of slats of metal about as wide as my palm. I could just barely fit my fingers between them. He opened the side of the cage. "Get in."

I tucked my face against Perun. When I didn't move fast enough for him, he grabbed the hood of my cloak and shoved me inside, slamming the door behind me.

After a moment, he slid one of slats aside and looked in at me. "That'll do."

Then the slat was back and he carried me to Shruikan. Within a minute, we were off. He didn't bother to pick up any of my gear. Inside the crate, there was barely enough room for me to move, but enough room for me to be knocked around at every beat of Shruikan's wings.

When we landed, I knew it was only a matter of time. He sat the crate down beside his throne, draped a heavy piece of indigo cloth over me, and waited in silence as the sounds of fighting drew steadily closer. My limbs fell asleep from being cramped for so long, and Perun was no better off. It was everything I could do to keep him calm and distract him from the terrifyingly confined space.

Eventually, we heard the sound of dragons and people approaching. I forced myself to relax. For better or for worse, the war would end here. Every living rider and dragon were inside this room, as well as every Eldunarí and egg.

"You have come to kill me."

No one responded, but I could sense the battle raging between them. Without warning, Galbatorix whipped the heavy purple cloth off the crate I quickly turned my face away and pulled my hood over my hair, hiding my identity as well as I could and shielding Perun so they wouldn't recognize me. A second later, he yanked the slat open, but all Eragon could see was a pale green hood slumped lifelessly inside the crate. I could have been a doll for all Eragon knew because there was no way he'd open his mind to me and confirm.

"Why don't you turn to meet your brother, älfa-dautr?"

I didn't move.

"Ella, come out and join us," Galbatorix said, his voice firm and giving no room for interpretation. I had a split second to decide what to do. I knew Eragon would hate me for it later, but I knew Eragon would surrender if Galbatorix even threatened to raise a hand against me.

"My name is Grace!" I retorted impetuously with a slight British accent, bringing up every memory from my life before and making myself seem the age I looked. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the crate. I screamed as loud and shrilly as I could, but it was abruptly cut off when Perun caught the tail of my cloak and it tore off my neck. It snapped back and covered the dragon before anyone caught sight of him.

"Now, now, Ella, don't lie to us."

My necklace had come off with my cloak.

"Let the girl go, she's not my sister and has nothing to do with this." Eragon snapped.

Galbatorix reached into the crate to grab Perun while his other hand tightened around my neck.

He grabbed my cloak and yanked it out, but both Perun and my necklace had vanished. I struggled not to react as Galbatorix's madness slipped through his mask of control. Perun was gone. I knew he was in the room somewhere, but I couldn't figure out where. Well, I couldn't figure out where until Glaedr flinched. I didn't want to know why Perun decided to crawl in Glaedr's mouth, my necklace swinging around his neck. Thankfully, only Oromis noticed the gold dragon's discomfort. I had no idea how Perun got there without anyone, even Glaedr himself, noticing, but he did and probably saved our asses. My attention was quickly brought back to the fact I was being slowly strangled and Galbatorix was shaking me for answers, then threw me to the ground. I landed on stone steps, barely avoiding getting my head bashed in on a corner. I still hit my head on the step, but managed to stay conscious.

"Where did he go?" Galbatorix bellowed. The whole attacking company flinched and cringed as Galbatorix assaulted their minds.

Underneath the chaos of the mental battle, I managed to figure out what Perun did to escape and repeated the spell. Though Glaedr managed not to let his mental shields slip, his gag reflex betrayed him and he spat both of us out onto the floor, covered in saliva. The entire battle halted to watch, not that I really had the presence of mind to appreciate their reactions. Perun snuffled at my face until I pushed him down like an overly enthusiastic dog.

Then the real battle began. Galbatorix charged, taking Eragon by surprise and the dragons lunged at each other. I had to grab Perun's tail to stop him from tearing off after the other dragons. Oromis and Arya fought with the dragons while Brom, Eragon, and Murtaugh fought Galbatorix himself. Elva pulled me into the corner of the room, away from the fighting. Suddenly, Galbatorix's voice broke above the fray, quiet, but still thrumming with power.

The fighting stopped and the sides separated, immobilized. Me, Elva, and Perun were half-hidden behind one of the massive decorations on the wall. We curled in on each other, not daring to even breathe lest Galbatorix turn on us.

Suddenly, Elva stood up without warning and charged towards Galbatorix. I assumed she was trying to speak, however, there was no sound but her feet hammering against the ground—until they stopped with a horrible squelching noise.

There was no sound but the dripping of blood. I didn't dare look out of my hiding place.

"How can you do this?" Eragon demanded.

"I think you can guess, young rider." Galbatorix sounded sane once again.

Eragon didn't answer.

"All of you cast a spell, any spell. Go ahead, I won't punish you for it."

I heard several spells attempted. Brom's was the most creative and dangerous, a spell to burn the oxygen from the room.

When they fell silent, Galbatorix continued. "I have learned the name of names, the name of the Ancient Language. It has taken me most of my reign, but indeed I have found it. All of you can feel its power. You have no hope. Nothing can defeat me now. Surrender now and I will grant you mercy."

I don't know what prompted it, but I stood up and stepped out of my hiding space, Perun perched on my shoulders, his wings spread and teeth bared. "You're wrong," I said loudly and firmly, striding towards Galbatorix with as much confidence as I could, stopping when I stood in front of Eragon, who was held several inches above the ground.

"Am I?"

"Names are not the most powerful thing. There are many things more powerful than a pathetic name!"

"What, pray tell, could be more powerful than the name that controls all magic?"

Eragon landed softly behind me, breaking Galbatorix's spell. Magic thrummed throughout the room, but it wasn't Galbatorix's magic, it was Eragon's. The Eldunarí added their strength behind Eragon.

Perun's claws dug into my shoulders.

I'd never seen Eragon so focused, nor had I ever seen the depth of his power. He attacked Shruikan first with a wordless spell. The dragon keened then lay down and just died. Galbatorix, for the first time, looked terrified as Eragon stalked towards him and cast a second wordless spell, his focus unbroken.

"What have you done‽" Galbatorix screamed, writhing. When Eragon didn't answer, Galbatorix attacked.

I'd never had the chance to see Eragon truly fight before he faced the king. I was fairly certain no one, not even Eragon would be able to repeat that feat in the throne room.

"I have sent Shruikan to his well-deserved peace and I send you, Galbatorix, to your well-deserved torment. You will understand the height and depth and breadth of what you have inflicted upon Alagaësia. As leader of the order of Riders, I declare it to be so." Eragon made the statement without any emotion, holding his hand in front of Galbatorix, his gedwey ignasia shining brightly. I glanced back at everyone else, slumped on the floor in awe. Even Saphira looked amazed as Eragon took the crown from his head and ripped off Galbatorix's dragon-wing cape.

Galbatorix screamed and collapsed. "You—Make it stop!" He howled, ripping off his gloves. The gedwey ignasia on his palm had vanished.

Eragon's answer chilled me. "No."

"Waíse néiat!"

I wasn't exactly sure what happened after that, but an instant later, everyone was sheltered in the corner of the throne room, Eragon standing between us and the explosion that was Galbatorix.

When everything settled, Eragon turned to us, his face expressionless, and speaking in the Ancient Language. "Master, take Ella and Perun out of the city, to the Silverwood Forest, take care of them and keep them safe. Arya, find your mother and inform her Galbatorix is dead. Father, go tell the dwarves. Murtaugh, inform Nasuada. Saphira, tell the werecats and the Urgals."

No one moved, we all just stared at Eragon.

"Now!" He barked. Brom and Arya leapt on Saphira and she and Thorn took off. Oromis gently pulled Perun's claws free of my shoulders and I ran forward before Oromis could lift me onto Glaedr's back. I hugged Eragon tightly around the waist. For a long, painful moment, he didn't react, but eventually knelt to hug me back. Oromis took a knee behind me and laid a hand on Eragon's head.

"You're not him. You did what was demanded of you and you took no pleasure in it."

"As soon as the next human ruler has solidified their power, I am going to find a way to add the dwarves and Urgals to the order of Riders in order to keep peace between the nations then I am leaving Alagaësia with the Eldunarí. Murtaugh and Thorn will come with me, as well as any new Riders and dragons before my departure, including Ella and Perun. When the new Riders are fully trained, I will send them back to Alagaësia."

"Eragon, you need not punish yourself—"

"Ebrithil, if I remain, it is only a matter of time before I become another Galbatorix. Right now, I'm as powerful as most Riders were before the fall, that was with less than a year of training. Imagine how strong I'll be in ten years, a hundred years. By then, the only person who might be able to rival me would be Ella and among elves and humans, males are much stronger. Perun will never equal Saphira either. He's half the size Saphira was at his age and blind. He won't catch up to her, not without the artificial growth Galbatorix induced upon Thorn and Shruikan. Ella would never allow that. I can't risk the temptation to try and fix everything I see wrong. I'm sorry, Ebrithil, I cannot remain."

Oromis took a deep breath. "Then I will accompany you, Eragon."

"Thank you, Ebrithil."

Perun scurried forward and wriggled between me and Eragon, enjoying the warmth.

Oromis chuckled then stood up. "Come, Ella, Perun. Let's wait somewhere safer."


	19. Chapter 19

We flew to Du Fells Nángoröth and retrieved my weapons and supplies, then back to the Silverwood forest.

I wasn't entirely certain how long we camped there, but it was at least three months. Eragon contacted us at least twice a day and Oromis quickly became a message carrier between Eragon and Murtaugh. Murtaugh checked in once a day, but mostly stayed in Ilirea to keep the peace and settle disputes between races.

By the end of the third month, Perun had mastered flying and could carry me on his back, with some strain. For some reason, being a Rider made it so much more enjoyable to fly. Instead of teaching him the human tongue first, I taught him the Ancient Language.

Once he could communicate, Glaedr began teaching him to fly, but it proved to be disastrous. I only let it go on for one painful day before intervening. Once Perun figured out how to navigate without crashing into trees, everything went much more smoothly. Eragon summoned us back to Ilirea to witness Nasuada's coronation as well as to witness him adding the dwarves and Urgals into the spell that bound the dragons and riders.

We spent a week in Ilirea before Eragon pulled the dragon riders out to Du Fells Nángoröth to wait for the first round of eggs to hatch for the different races. We stayed in the desert for a full year, gaining a new rider about every three months. Once all the eggs Eragon distributed hatched and the boat was built to take us across the sea, we left. Almost everyone was apprehensive about the riders and dragons leaving without anyone else, but when Eragon promised to send me back within five years, the protests died down, but that might have been because Eragon was not going to yield and Saphira made that very clear.

The only non-riders Eragon allowed to come with us was Roran, Katrina, and their daughter, whom Eragon was certain would end up a rider in turn. Not even Arya was allowed to come with us.

During the trip, the young dragons did not appreciate being confined to the boat, which was not quite large enough to hold them all, but after the second Nïdhwal was spotted on the horizon, Eragon and Saphira agreed it was for the best. It didn't help that two of the wild dragons hatched on the way.

The entire trip took three months, and by the end, I was pretty sure the two Urgal riders were about to have a go at Eragon for his no-fighting rule. They definitely picked fights with me as soon as we landed. I didn't mind, Perun and I were going stir-crazy anyways. Thankfully, Eragon didn't interfere. He took to the teaching gig more naturally than I expected and let us work out our frustrations, carefully watching the fight to make sure none of us got hurt, and patching us up when it was over. Oromis retired. That was the only way to describe it. As soon as everyone had homes sung out of the _massive_ trees in our new land, he and Glaedr settled down a day's journey away and worked with the Eldunarí to bring the one Galbatorix corrupted back to sanity. Five years later, I returned to Alagaësia with Brom and Murtaugh to find everything running smoothly. Only the riders knew of Perun's blindness, and no one suspected a thing as I travelled around with the new batch of eggs ready for hatching. Murtaugh refused to accompany me, and began the training of new Riders at Du Fells Nángoröth as the eggs hatched. We returned to Eragon a year later and after five years, I returned, accompanied by three of the four riders from the first distribution of eggs.

Much to my frustration and Eragon's amusement, I didn't grow at all over the course of the next century. The same held true for the handful of pre-pubescent riders selected. From then on, Eragon required rider candidates to be at least sixteen. We did grow eventually, but it took a very long time for us to look like adults, even though we matured mentally without any problems. Eragon gained another set of teeth marks beside Perun's when he ruffled my hair one too many times after my hundredth birthday and used my head as an armrest. Not that it stopped him, but he avoided teasing me in front of anyone but Brom, Oromis, and Glaedr.

On the five hundredth anniversary of Galbatorix's defeat, Eragon passed on his mantle of leadership and became just as much of a pain as Brom still was. No one knew how the old man was still alive, especially without his bond with a dragon, but no one brought it up. Brom's ire just wasn't worth it. The old man lived to antagonize riders and dragons alike, and because of Eragon, no one could touch him.

Only about half of the riders returned to Alagaësia after their training and eventually the more adventurous wild dragons returned with them.

The urgal, dwarf, and human languages eventually meshed to create a new language in the new era, but the Ancient Language stayed dominant in the Rider world.

At the death of Nasuada's successor, a tyrant took over the Brodding Kingdom. It wouldn't have been worth the attention of the riders if the council of elves, who took over when Islanzadí stepped down alongside Nasuada, hadn't made an alliance with the human tyrant. I could have taken care of it with a little bit of help, but when I scried Eragon to tell him of the situation, he told me to stand down and wait for him. I did, but I made a point to spend the time wandering around the smaller villages and helping whomever I could. To be perfectly honest, I was trying to antagonize the tyrants, but they didn't take the bait before Eragon arrived to find me arguing with a band of slave traders. The tyrants were deposed by the end of the month, and as soon as another leader was chosen, Eragon pulled all the Riders out of Alagaësia for two years.

Eragon only allowed Riders to settle petty disputes. Anything that went beyond a single village was to be left to the government. Since the Urgals were quick to challenge riders to duels, they were forbidden from combat and at least half of all riders were banned from interfering with Urgal tribes. As soon as the riders were strong enough, Eragon had me and Murtaugh set up a system for proxy wars to be fought without massive loss of life. It was a tournament filled with various fights: magical, physical, and mental. A team from each of the Urgal tribes, dwarf clans, human countries, and the elves competed. The events were set up so that no one race had a significant advantage. However, it took almost fifty years after Roran's death for a human to duplicate his feat of defeating an Urgal in a wrestling match. A feat I hadn't known about until a bard was chosen as a rider and became a favorite dinnertime amusement. Roran laughed and gave his own side of the story shortly before his death, which sparked a retelling of his role in the war, most of which I had never heard before, and neither had his daughter.

It turned out that after my captivity, I was very out-of-touch with the events of the war. When it became clear that the bard would tell the story of the entire war, mostly for my benefit, Eragon left. The war had scarred him more than anyone wanted to admit, but he never forbade the stories from being told. Everyone quickly learned not to bring it up in his presence, otherwise he and Saphira ended up going missing for several days at a time. Before each group of riders graduated, Eragon gathered them up and told them the story of Galbatorix (minus Eragon and Saphira's involvement), warning them of the danger riders posed to the rest of the world. He added a not-so-subtle threat at the end. If any rider took a position of leadership in Alagaësia, he would be brought back to the new world and forbidden from leaving. If any rider put themselves or their dragon in unnecessary danger, no matter the consequences, they would be brought back to the new world until Eragon or the present leader deemed them mature and responsible enough to return. Saphira did the same with the dragons.

Roran died eighty-seven years after we landed in the new world. Ironically, he was the first to set foot on the new soil, fed up with the rocking of the boat. He worked the fields that provided our food until the day he died. One day, he was late for dinner, and I went to look for him, only to find him crumpled in the wheat field. Perun flew him back and laid him in his bed where he died the next morning. Eragon said it was because his body just gave up. It was a miracle Roran lived for as long as he did, he was a hundred and four, which was far older than most humans lived. Katrina died a year later as the last human to remember the war with Galbatorix.

Oromis died of his malady about two hundred years after Galbatorix's fall. Glaedr died of grief a few weeks later. No one knew exactly how old Oromis was, but he was over a thousand years old and died as the oldest living elf. After he left Alagaësia, he never returned. Eragon offered to arrange for him to return to Du Weldenvarden, but he refused. Me, Eragon, and Brom held vigil with him for the last month of his life, which he spent confined to his bed. The three of us, alongside Saphira and Perun held vigil with Glaedr as well. Brom took up their quest to heal the minds of the Eldunarí Galbatorix tormented.

Nineteen years after Eragon's retirement, all the Eldunarí were declared to be sane enough to be brought back to rest of Rider society and I handed my responsibility of finding new riders off to an energetic young man

Eragon was the next rider to die, eight hundred and fifty-nine years after Oromis. No one knew how or why he died, but he died in his sleep and Saphira's keening could be heard throughout the known world and beyond. After his funeral, Saphira vanished, but every year, on the anniversary of Eragon's death, she could be seen bowed in front of his grave. I met her there every year. As far as anyone knew, she never spoke again. Some went so far as to suspect she forgot language in her grief.

Before Eragon's death, Brom was merely a cranky, eccentric old man. After his son's death, he withdrew from society like Saphira. I became the keeper of the Eldunarí in a vault beneath the rider city. Every month, I visited Brom as he slowly seemed to wither.

Seven years later, Perun died alongside twenty-eight other dragons and eighteen riders in a tragic disaster. Fourteen of the dragons were partnered with fourteen trainee dragons and their riders, learning how to fly in formation over the unpredictable updrafts from a nearby group of mountains that turned out to be volcanoes. Perun raised the alarm when he felt the air tremble and the dragons fled the area. Panic ensued among the dragons, panic so strong Perun couldn't even keep the experienced dragons calm. They raced towards the city, but there was no way they could outrun the explosion. Shrapnel of molten rock shot them all out of the sky, desperate wards useless against the new threat. The entire city watched in horror, then terror as the eruption swallowed them and rolled towards us.

It was the first devastating natural disaster we'd ever faced. The infants, most children, some of the elderly, and several of the younger dragons suffocated on the ash before we managed to evacuate the entire city to the edge of the ocean where the fresh air saved us.

As soon as everyone was on their feet, I fled the city to find Brom. The hermitage he lived in with Eragon, where Oromis and Glaedr once lived, was untouched by the volcanic explosion.

Brom didn't have to ask what happened.

He let me mourn for three days before dragging me back to the city and setting me to work on the rebuilding. By the end of the month, almost every rider in Alagaësia had returned to assist in the rebuilding. In fact, the head of the riders had to send several dozen riders without family or someone to bury back to Alagaësia to make sure we didn't accidentally destabilize the entire world because of one eruption and to gather any and all information so we weren't taken by surprise again. The bodies of the dragons and riders killed in the air were never found.

After the town was out of immediate danger, the suicides started. First, it was the teenagers who lost their young dragons to the ash. All eight of them went together and threw themselves into the volcano. nine of the eleven riders whose dragons died in the air followed over the next week. Three times I found myself standing over the magma glowing dimly, deep in the volcano before someone physically dragged me away. Brom caught me the first two times and a wild dragon caught me the third time, then deposited me, kicking and screaming, in the middle of town. Two of the wild dragons started to keep watch after the first week of suicides. Four dragons drowned themselves in the ocean, their bodies washing up on the shore.

On the bright side, the town was only buried in ash and only one home collapsed. All the food had been taken in several weeks before and we didn't starve until the next fall, when nothing grew. What made it worse was the famine in Alagaësia, so there was no food to be imported.

On the side of the mountain left mostly free from the ash, the soil was too rocky, and beyond that was desert, which the wild dragons loved, but the people, even if they overcame their aversion to meat, could not find enough to get by, even though we tried.

We couldn't even sing the plants to life, though it did help speed the process. It took three years for the ash to sink far enough into the soil for plants to grow again. In that time, our population was halved. By the time the crops began to grow again, no dragon had survived the death of their rider and only one rider survived the death of their dragon without attempting suicide. I was the only rider anyone managed to prevent from committing suicide, but I was also the only prominent rider to lose a dragon in the disaster and after my third attempt, Brom and the head rider made sure I was either in the public eye or supervised by someone able to prevent another attempt.

I was the test dummy for their attempts to develop a therapy to help riders and dragons recover from the loss of their partner. Brom's pursuit of revenge after his Saphira's death and his stupid luck saved him, but there was no way to fight the earth itself. The lack of closure was the primary reason so many died.

Brom died a year after everything reached what could be considered normal. It was complications from breathing in so much ash, his elderly frame couldn't recover. He wasn't well-liked, but everyone put up with him anyways and respected him. His funeral was quiet and short. We buried him beside Eragon. I don't know how Saphira knew, but that evening, she landed behind me as I knelt between their graves. The ground shook beneath her as she walked up and laid her head behind me, keening mournfully.

I suspected I was the first person she spoke with since Eragon's death, over a decade before. She kept the vigil with me throughout the night.

I don't know why, but even though Saphira only a hundred years older than Glaedr when he died, she was significantly larger. She was almost ten feet longer than Thorn, the next-oldest living dragon.

Three years later, I fell mysteriously ill one night. I had moved in to Oromis's hermitage and couldn't contact anyone. I knew I was dying and suspected it was the same thing that killed Eragon. Saphira crept into the home during the night and lay beside me as I struggled to breathe. Eventually, I fell asleep to her humming vibrating the entire structure. I didn't wake up.


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks for reading!

BEGUN WRITING: DECEMBER 2015

FINISHED WRITING: MAY 8, 2017

POSTED: MAY 9, 2017

Page count: 158

Word count: 64,754


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